And Now, What?
by Daniko
Summary: He just needed to get away. To be left on his own for a little while. Then everything would be like it used to, he was sure of it.' Harry just needed to find out who he was. He never expected Malfoy to be of any help. Almost DH-compliant; EWE. ABANDONED.
1. Prologue

**Rating:** M/NC-17

**Pairing:** Draco/Harry

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended – _Standard disclaimer_.

**Summary: **

**Warnings:** Strong language and explicit sexual content between two males (eventually) – slash; spoilers; AR.

* * *

**Prologue**

By Dani-ko  
Beta'd by MrsHellman, Sevfan, and Tavia_d

* * *

Harry Potter lay on his back on his absolutely huge bed in the main suite of his house. His mind was reeling with possibilities for his new plan. A plan he felt he should share with no one . . .

He'd been living at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place ever since May, and in all honesty, nothing much had happened.

It was the house of his godfather, but it didn't look like it anymore. Hermione had hired a few wizard experts in construction that had made his house look like new. Everything was clean and free of the dust that had used to cake every available _and _unavailable surface; any lingering dark magic was dispelled; they had bought some new furniture; basically, it looked like home. There were pictures of his friends and family all around. The smell of home-cooked food filled the air thanks to Kreacher. The rugs were soft and allowed him to walk around without shoes on. He was comfortable.

However, what this house couldn't offer him, and what he prized now more than ever, was privacy. The same family and friends he was so fond of were becoming a problem, and he had never expected them to become so.

It wasn't their fault, he reasoned. It was his. He was the one that couldn't let go. He felt so guilty; maybe if he had been faster or smarter or had deciphered Dumbledore's intentions earlier, many lives could have been saved. He didn't blame himself though, oh no, but he didn't feel like the hero everyone expected him to be either, but the world didn't agree with him on that. They deemed him to be their leader, their definition of hope, courage and morality. They all wanted to thank him, to touch him, to know him, and he had never felt so smothered ever before.

On the other hand, he had killed a man; a man going by the name Voldemort, who had been one of the darkest wizards ever born, yes, but regardless it had been a man. He had seen the light disappear from those red eyes, knowing very well that he would become a lost soul. That kind of power that Harry had had over another human being had scared him. As if that wasn't enough, he had even died at the hands of that same man. He had died, and he had come back.

Why?

Why wasn't he dead like everyone else? What was his purpose? He didn't know. And that scared him even more. Especially when everyone else seemed to have already found a purpose for him.

He was supposed to be a hero, Ronald Weasley's and Hermione Granger's friend, Ginny Weasley's boyfriend, the youngest Auror ever admitted, and so on . . . he wanted to be those things, yes, but he also wanted to be just Harry – a normal wizard with no expectations put on his shoulders and mind – and right then, he wasn't so sure who that was. Who was Harry after all? Besides "The Boy Who Lived" or "The Vanquisher of the Dark Lord", that is.

He didn't know, but he wanted to find out, and that's how his mind had come up with that treacherous plan. He just needed to get away. To be left on his own for a little while. Then everything would be just fine, he was sure of it.

He felt a little pang of guilt because of Hermione, but he hoped she could forgive him. He knew that Ron would be upset, but right now he needed space and that was something that Ron wasn't willing to give him. He also wasn't concerned for the Weasleys; they would be okay on their own; they would miss him of course as it was proven hundreds of times that they thought of him as family, but they would understand. They'd seen two wars after all. And, of course, most of all, he couldn't care less about all those people who were trying to get a piece of him.

Harry got up with his decision clear in his head.

He went to his walk-in closet and took out his trunk, opening it on top of the bed while he started to pack. As he put away his clothes, he grimaced. His entire wardrobe was brand new. Hermione decided that if he was to be a public figure, he needed to dress properly, and so they went shopping in Muggle London. He couldn't care less about his looks . . . and then_ because_ he couldn't care less, he had indulged her.

Then he put away his books. He had them all sorted out in what had been Lord Black's office on the floor beneath him, and he wasn't going to need school books anytime soon, but some of them, he could use; he chose to take a few of them with him, so that he could do something in his free time.

The Invisibility Cloak, the Marauder's Map and the Golden Snitch, the one Dumbledore had given him with the Resurrection Stone, were the last things to go. He placed them carefully amongst his other possessions and closed the trunk with a loud click that sounded final in his mind. Then he sighed. He'd better hurry, because if he was a Gryffindor, he was also a Slytherin; he should take advantage of his Gryffindor impulsiveness before his Slytherin streak would start to kick in, and he'd begin thinking about the consequences.

If he were to be honest with himself – which he wasn't very often – he would realise that all of his actions were influenced by both sides.

He carried his meagre possessions to the drawing room, which was now being illuminated by the sunshine that came through the windows. He sat down by the small tea table that was located on the right side of the room and wrote a letter to Hermione, telling her that he needed some time alone, and that he would write again as soon as he could. He sent his love to the Weasleys and then he asked Kreacher to deliver the letter.

After that, he arranged his travel cloak around his jumper and black jeans, checked if the Elder Wand was in its holster and his pockets for his wallet. Once everything was set, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. Looking around one last time, he turned his back on his home.

"Hog's Head pub!"

* * *

TBC


	2. I'm An Engaging Person

**PART I**

**Chapter 2: I'm and Engaging Person**

By Dani-ko  
Beta'd by MrsHellman, Sevfan and Tavia_d.

* * *

When he finally managed to pull himself up from the dusty pub floor, Harry took in his surroundings.

The Hog's Head lower level was the actual pub and it was exactly as Harry remembered it to be, filthy. It was almost empty at this hour, but still, no one paid any attention to him. Behind the counter, Aberforth raised his head to see who was coming from the fireplace and his eyes lit up when he recognised Harry.

"Well, well, well," he said, obviously pleased. "What brings the great hero to my dubious pub?" he asked and Harry smiled at him.

"I need a place to stay," the boy said, and pulled his trunk after him; he refused to meet those bright blue eyes that remember him so much of Hogwarts' previous headmaster. To top it all off, if he did, he feared Aberforth would read him like Albus used to do. "I would like to take a room, Mr Dumbledore." That managed to steal a laugh from the old man.

"Come on, boy," he said, cleaning his mouth using a surprisingly clean handkerchief. "Dumbledore was my brother, I'm just Aberforth." He smiled roughly, scrutinizing the boy in front of him. "No one here is going to blame you for wanting some peace of mind…"

Harry nodded weakly in appreciation as the bar owner guided him upstairs where the rooms were located. The teen levitated his trunk and made sure it followed him, as the older of the two guided him through the stairs. The first floor had a common room with a fireplace, comfortable sofas and classic tea tables, and one of them was arranged for a single lunch setting.

"Is there anyone else in here?" Harry suddenly asked, afraid of publicity. He assumed that no one would be staying in the ill reputed inn. The Hog's Head wasn't the best of places in all honesty.

"Only one guest, boy." Then, understanding Harry's issues, he proceeded. "Don't worry; he doesn't want to be found either." If that should have made Harry relax, it failed miserably.

What kind of person would hide in such joyful days? He couldn't help but notice the sarcasm that graced his thoughts.

As if summoned by their conversation, said guest made his way down the stairs, coming to a stop at the sight of Harry. The raven-haired teen saw grey eyes widen in shock and disbelief. His mouth stood slightly agape, until he realised that subtle indication of shock could be seen in his face and his expression was promptly replaced by a stoic one. He nodded curtly to both men in front of him, ran a hand through white-blond hair and he sat for his meal.

Harry's mouth had yet to close, his breath yet to return and his heart yet to start beating normally again, at the sight of Draco Malfoy.

Needless is to say that Harry's brain didn't process things very well after that. Absentmindedly, Harry did the check-in, was guided to his own room, put his clothes in the drawers of the closet and set the wards around his private possessions, before he sat on the bed wondering why his life would always mess with him.

Well, it's not like he still bore that childish hatred towards Malfoy. The War had put things under another perspective, that grudge was meaningless in the light of recent events. He still thought that the blond was despicable, but every time they had met each other, since the Battle of Hogwarts, the git kept proving him wrong.

The first time – it had been the day after the Battle of Hogwarts – everyone was still coping with the effects of the battle, when Malfoy appeared in the Gryffindor dorms and asked to speak with Harry. He had thanked the Gryffindor for saving his life, in his own very special and obnoxious way, and offered his hand in truce. Harry hadn't been fooled by such a kind gesture but still took his hand and watched that cold face lit up with something he couldn't quite place his finger on. That was the first time Malfoy seemed to be something other than the git he was known for being.

The second time had been at the Malfoys' trial.

Harry was sitting there and saw it all very clearly. The judges' faces told him everything he needed to know for the moment. The Wizengamot was ready to condemn everyone who had an affiliation to the Dark Lord, regardless of their deeds. Harry would not tolerate that, he had fought for a different world, and so he asked permission to speak and retold how Draco and Narcissa Malfoy had prevented him from getting killed, twice he might add. Then he did an amazing speech, fuelled by those stupid Gryffindor emotions he was known to possess.

It ended with Draco and Narcissa being freed, as Lucius Malfoy was condemned to house arrest. After that, Draco had come next to him and clasped his hand between his and once again had thanked him, and all of a sudden, Harry had started to think that maybe Malfoy was a little bit human. Maybe there actually existed something akin to a human soul within that body of his?

Harry was prevented from giving that much thought on it, mostly because of his own problems.

Now though, he was confused. How was he supposed to act? Bickering and duelling were something he knew how to do. They were not friends – they were . . . enemies? –and Harry was not so sure how one acted around an acquaintance, especially when he was very conscious that this was not normal.

That night, both of them had dinner in the common room. The weather was warm just like the end of May should be. The windows were opened and the moonlight entered through them. The room was cosy, the opposite of the pub downstairs.

Harry and Malfoy sat on opposite sides of the table, but oddly enough, they sat facing each other. They didn't speak to one another and therefore ate in silence. Harry started to fidget.

"Potter." It was Malfoy who spoke first, twitching at the other boy's antics. "I can see that you are uncomfortable." That was an understatement. "I understand why though, you don't need to be reminded . . . but I did not ask for us to meet. However, I will stay out of your way."

Harry's brows furrowed, what the hell was Malfoy talking about? Then he understood, and he smiled sadly as he did.

Draco thought that Potter was uncomfortable because the blond had been a Death Eater. That was not true. Harry knew that Malfoy was just a spoiled boy who had got himself in something that went over his head. He pitied him actually. The problem was that his school nemesis was sitting in front of him, having dinner, in a peaceful silence, and that was against everything Harry had grown used to.

He couldn't find the words to tell Malfoy that. He could be understanding with his friends and speak softly to them, but with Malfoy, how did one react? He didn't know. The blond boy must have thought that Harry had agreed with what he'd said because he finished eating quickly and left the room, leaving Harry feeling bad without knowing why.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, much to Draco's disdain, Harry didn't stop dancing around him.

Harry didn't know why, but he would like to talk with Malfoy about . . . well, anything. So, he practically stalked him. If Malfoy was in the common room, Harry would come in right after, trying his best not to be seen of course; if Malfoy was using the bathroom, Harry would sometimes – accidentally of course – have to use the bathroom right after; if Malfoy was in the bedroom, Harry would come to remind him that he had to eat or simply appear there due to another reason, and this behaviour was confusing for both boys.

It's just that Harry had this distinct idea that it would be good for both of them to just speak with each other, just be with each other. . . He couldn't understand it, but the fact was that he saw himself in the blond and was trying to help himself without realising it.

It had always been like that with them. They were impossibly drawn to each other. Just to show the other that they existed and were better, but neither Harry nor Draco felt the urge to hex each other into oblivion.

Finally, Harry had an epiphany. He felt sympathetic – but why? He didn't know and he was really getting tired of not knowing. On the other hand though, Harry had just realised a major mishap in his plan. He was not a people person, but being alone just didn't suit his taste, he needed human contact, now more than ever, and Malfoy happened to be around.

On that evening, though, before Harry could come up with a plan to solve this situation, Malfoy snapped.

Nothing unusual had happened; Harry had even got out of the blond's way for most of the day. The raven-haired boy had come down for dinner, intending on asking Malfoy if he minded that they sat together for dinner.

"Sure," had been the blond's answer.

They sat and ate in silence, until Harry finally decided to start a conversation.

"So, why are you not at home with your family?"

"None of your business," was the short reply.

"Fine," Harry scoffed. "Sheesh, just trying to be nice."

"Yeah, like you care, Potter." Draco all but spat the last word.

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy." Harry retorted angrily. "Just because you still hold onto that school boy grudge, doesn't mean I do too. I guess your life is just that pathetic . . ."

Harry didn't have the chance to finish is sentence because Malfoy's pale fist collided with his jaw, sending him flying backwards. On instinct, the Gryffindor reacted and launched himself at the blond.

Fists were colliding with bony limbs, torsos were being kicked at full force, arms were blocking blows and the furniture was being used as weapon; the spells and charms were wiped out from their minds. Their wands lay discarded on the floor as the teens tried to beat the living hell out of each other. Draco's hand came in contact with a broken plate and his palm started to bleed, but he didn't care. The table fell on Harry's leaning form, spraining his wrist but he didn't stop. They returned to their fighting just by looking at each other. It was as if everything that had gone wrong in each other's lives was the other's fault.

Soon enough, neither of them had the strength to muster any hard blows, especially Draco who was losing a lot of blood and Harry's wrist was hurting so much that the boy winced every time he moved it. They scooped to opposite sides of the room to recover. They were still eyeing each other warily, but there was no hatred in their gaze.

"My life is not pathetic." Malfoy resumed the conversation of hours ago. "Yours is. You are nothing but a boy with a lucky star that managed to fool everyone into thinking you're a hero. I bet your mother would have— ugh!"

It was Harry who started it this time. Even hurt as they were, their attacks were still powerful and vicious, both of them trying to make the other crawl and scream due to pain. Their punches and kicks had specific targets and both of them were getting seriously injured. Harry's shoulder was sore because of a strain and blood was dripping from a cut above his eyebrows; and Draco's nose was broken.

"You bloody bastard, don't you dare talk about my parents!" Harry screamed, while blocking one punch.

"Why not? Guilty much? After all, their deaths were your fault." Draco all but sneered.

"It was not!"

"It wasn't only them . . ." the blond continued, his words vicious, meaning harm. "How many people died because their only hope was a daft Gryffindor?"

"It wasn't . . . I tried . . . I did!" Harry was being incoherent, hearing Malfoy voicing his own insecurities. How come that they always knew how to push the each other's buttons so thoroughly? It was like the blond had a private link to Harry's mind and Harry to the blond's. He shuddered, and then he snapped. "How about you? How many people died because of you? Because of your cowardice? Because you were too weak to do what they ordered you to do and because of your betrayal?"

"That's not true, Potter!" the blond held weakly.

"What about Bill Weasley? Greyback almost killed him! And all the Death Eaters tortured and killed because of your stupidity? Is that not true?"

Draco attacked without thinking; all he saw was red. He hated Potter. He hated the way the other boy always made him so angry. However, he was hurt, so he lost his footing, and Harry took the opportunity and launching himself, with his Seeker reflexes, he pinned the blond to the ground with both wrists above his head. When he opened his eyes to brag, he froze.

Malfoy turned his face to the side and was trying, and failing miserably, to hide the tears pooling in his eyes, even though he was refusing to shed them. It took the blond about two minutes before he composed himself again and faced Harry with a look that did nothing to erase Harry's anxiety. Malfoy was looking at him; really looking with his grey eyes full of accusation, betrayal and such sadness that Harry had to take a step back overwhelmed by what he saw in those eyes. He seemed to be struggling with something far bigger than Harry and their petty arguments.

Harry stopped abruptly. Had he seriously hurt the blond?

Merlin, he hoped not. Immediately, he sat back and pulled the blond up. Malfoy was looking down, suddenly very interested in his knees, fighting to keep his face emotionless, trying to look as if he wasn't troubled by anything.

Looking at Malfoy, Harry saw something. Harry saw himself. That pained expression, his slouched shoulders, the bags under his eyes as if every night was plagued by a nightmare, the guilt; all of it, Harry saw it daily in the mirror. He never cried, but he had some good friends who were very comforting.

Did Malfoy have that? Comforting friends?

He didn't think so.

"It was not my fault that all of that happened. What was I supposed to do, you tell me," the blond murmured.

"I know. It's not. I'm sorry." Truth be told, Harry couldn't find it in himself to hit someone when that someone was down. He even had to resist the urge to hug the other boy. Malfoy looked at him sceptically. "I mean that. Things got too much for you. It was a bad choice, but that's it."

"You are being honest, aren't you?" the blond asked, his eyes narrowed. Then he seemed to find something in Harry's eyes that made him sure of it. "Stupid Gryffindor. After all I said to you, just because you see some emotion, you get all mushy and sappy . . ."

"Well, sorry for caring, Malfoy."

"Aw, so sweet of you."

Harry glared at the blond as he heard the sarcasm.

With that, they stared at each other. Then they began to chuckle. All the pent-up emotions drained with the fight. They always took out their problems on each other, so this was not very different.

Malfoy got up and Summoned a first-aid kit. He began tending his wounds. Seeing him struggling with a bandage, Harry got up and helped him tie it around his bleeding hand.

"Gods, Potter, who would say that we would be laughing together after all this time?"

"Yeah."

"The war kind of puts things into perspective," the blond mused. Harry looked aghast. It was weird to hear something he would say himself from Malfoy's mouth.

Yes, Harry saw it now. They were two of a kind.

"Yes."

"Your eloquence astonishes me, Potter." Malfoy sneered, retrieving his wand from the floor to fix his bloody nose.

"Sod off!" Harry said, jokingly. "Why don't you tell me what you took out on me?" The blond seemed surprised by the question.

"What makes you think I was taking something out on you?" he asked, as he absentmindedly started to fix Harry's injuries. Harry thought about saying something about it, but he was not that good in healing spells, so he kept his mouth shut.

"That's what I was doing." That was Harry's answer. Draco smiled, but didn't reply right away.

This side of Potter is something else, he thought with a laugh.

Draco was a smart young man. He had realised that his hatred towards the other male during their school years, was just a great deal of jealousy, envy and frustration. He still thought the Gryffindor was a bloody git, far too nice for his own good, but he really admired the other. Always had. Harry was a hero, and not just because he had defeated Lord Voldemort, but because of that annoyingly chivalrous courage of his, his bloody believe in worth.

In the darkest corner of his mind, Draco knew that he wanted Harry's approval and friendship. He had wanted that since he was eleven years old.

"Yes, we are quite alike, aren't we?" It was what he ended up saying.

"No, we're not," was Harry's quite obvious denial. Malfoy chuckled as he finished treating Harry's wounds.

"I fixed us both, you clean this mess," he taunted, sitting gracefully in one of the chairs that hadn't been knocked down. He crossed his legs.

Grumbling under his breath, quite loudly if you asked Draco, Harry began his extraneous task.

He finished it in fifteen minutes, during which Draco had been oddly silent, none of his spiteful comments had been heard, and when Harry turned towards him and met his eyes, the raven-haired boy noticed that he was deep in thought.

Harry finally sat in front of him.

"What?" he asked.

"It's my birthday," was the soft reply. ". . . and I'm all alone."

Well, Harry didn't know what to make of that. A part of him felt happy that Malfoy was sharing. Why was Malfoy away from home, anyway? If he had a family, he shouldn't be spending the day alone. Harry had had a lot of these kinds of birthdays and it was really sad. He knew how unwanted you could feel from time to time, and it made him frown as he looked up at the other boy with a questioning glaze.

"Why are you not at home?" he asked for the second time that evening.

"I can't . . . I just can't live there." Harry nodded in comprehension. There was more to it, he knew, but he wouldn't push Malfoy if he didn't want to speak about it. Taking a sudden decision, he got up. He Summoned his jacket and personal belongings, and noticed that Malfoy appeared to be confused.

"Where are you going?" Harry looked at him smugly and the blond boy arched a brow, confusion written all over his face. "I know it's not any of my business, but—"

"I'm going to get you a birthday cake," the raven-haired teen interrupted. Draco gaped at him.

Bloody git with a hero complex, making Draco thankful.

"Why?"

"Because it's sad to spend your birthday alone." Harry said it so simply, as if it wasn't a big deal. "I had my share in this, so I know what's like."

"The Golden Boy, not having a perfect childhood?" Even though Malfoy tried to look only mildly interested, his curious eyes betrayed him. Harry smiled at this. It was nice to get to know someone new. Then he got conscious of his thoughts and his mind reeled with horror . . .

"I'll tell you that story when you really tell me why you're not going home," he found himself saying, despite all that had already been said.

"What makes you think I care?" Draco retorted, smirking childishly and Harry blushed, annoyed at the other male for saying such things. Something the blond didn't think about though, was that he sounded interested.

"You were the one who asked!" Harry accused defensively.

"Well, yes," Malfoy conceded. "It's a deal then. When I share, you share."

"Good."

"Now, I really think you shouldn't be wandering around all on your own," the blond said as he looked away, not wanting to say this facing that earnest face. Never know what he might end up saying.

"Why?" Draco sighed. Was Potter really that innocent? Not to mention dense as rock . . .

"It's the aftermath of the war. One can never be too safe, especially you," he answered quickly as if to finish this as fast as possible. Which was probably true. He was concerned for his nemesis' well-being. It ought to be embarrassing.

"Aw, didn't know you cared." The sarcasm was obvious.

"Really, Potter, I appreciate the gesture," he added a bit more seriously, sounding a lot like Hermione when she was trying to explain something to Harry and Ron. "However, I will not be accused of letting you waltz into danger without doing anything at all."

"Look, Malfoy—" Harry tried to reason, "—I will hurry, I promise. It's dark, no one will see me. So no worries about your sorry arse."

"You have twenty minutes, afterwards I will owl the Minister."

"Geez, stressed much?"

"Just hurry up, if you are bent on getting me a cake I won't complain."

Harry could see in his face that the blond was really thinking that could be some threat. He smiled and left the pub, taking the path to the chocolate store where Cho had first taken him to. It was a store he'd come to fall for; head over heels – quite literally if you count that time when he and Ron were supposed to buy Hermione a present, and then Harry fell on his ass thanks to the damn ice.

He mildly wondered how just a few words managed to change an entire relationship, but he wasn't going to complain, he was getting cake.

It was like they had started new relationship, given each other a second chance. Maybe that's what they wanted. They needed someone who had gone through the same hardships, had the same luggage; but also someone who didn't share their perspective, their plain morals.

They needed more than just the plain life ahead of them; they needed a new shade in their lives.

Who better to do that than their complete opposite, so different, but at the same time so much alike?

Draco smiled. Yes, he was going to try this.

He went to his room, humming happily the Hogwarts song he had heard the first year. He had a new purpose in life: befriend Harry Potter – out of all bloody people though, he couldn't understand why that specific half-blood.

He was not aware that said boy was humming the same song, walking along the streets of Hogsmeade.

Yes, Harry would befriend Draco Malfoy.

Finally, Harry reached his destiny. Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. He went in and came back moments later with a heavy pink and golden box in his hands – horrible colours if you asked him. He resumed the path back to the inn. Suddenly, something caught his attention.

It was a small shop, selling small things, like those badges that caught Harry's attention, one of them in particular. It was green and silver and it was at least the size of his closed fist. It read 'I am an engaging person . . . at least in my head.' Oh, it was perfect. He went in and purchased the item rather fast. He even got some other things.

Then he saw that he was five minutes late taking the time Malfoy had given to him into consideration, so he practically ran to the Hog's Head and made it back in barely three minutes. When he approached the door, a blond was waiting for him at the entrance, with his arms crossed and an angry expression.

"You're late!"

"I know! I decided to buy you a gift." Draco quirked an eyebrow as he heard this.

"Really?"

"Well, it's not a real present; I will save those for when we are real friends, okay?" Draco smiled. He was already having fun seeing Harry struggle with his loving character and the fact that Draco was a git . . . well, Harry thought so anyway.

They entered the inn, in silence, quite an awkward one if you asked them, intending on making the most out of tonight. It had been too long since either of them had had any contact with anyone.

They never noticed the cold eyes watching them.

* * *

_It's shameful._

_I am a great, powerful witch. I am royalty. And now here I am, hiding under rotten clothes, hunching my back so that people won't notice me._

_They're talking about status judged by your blood, humph! It's them who are wrong about that; they are hypocritical, pretending to be accepting, but none of them ever spares a second glance to a wayward vagrant like me. I think those damn leeches should be eradicated too. It's okay. I was counting on that for my escape._

_I can't be caught._

_I need to revenge my master and the Golden Boy will pay._

_Oh, my, my, my, that's just too good!_

_I think I just saw Saint Potter pass me by. He also didn't spare me a glance, so much for the Saint, eh?_

_I should follow him, just to see what it is he's doing, maybe it will increase my hatred. That's not a hard achievement. He's staying at that dump; the Hog's Head. I would give my right arm to finish that disgusting Aberforth and his bestiality ways._

_. . ._

_Maybe not my right arm, because I need it to finish Potter, but a couple of fingers, perhaps._

_And who in the name of the Dark Lord is that!_

_Draco Malfoy? Of course . . . It figures. Just like his father, his loyalty changes quickly. He's bent, you know? I always wondered how the Dark Lord allowed him to be part of his circle. Then again, he probably didn't know. Who pays attention to the Malfoys? They are just weak people, willing to do anything to bask in other wizards' powers._

_He's probably Potter's bitch right now, and he's probably enjoying every minute of it . . . Oh, but maybe it's the other way around; Potter seems to never stop surprising people._

_Well, that's just rich. I wonder if Lucius and Narcissa know. It doesn't matter though. It works perfectly fine for me._

_The Weasleys are out of my reach. I would probably be dead in seconds if I touched a single red hair of those filthy blood traitors._

_But the Malfoys I can reach . . ._

_And let's face it!_

_Who would complain if they died? They are not Death Eaters, and they are not citizens._

_Their betrayal was an ill judgement on their part. Too bad. My loyalty lies with the Dark Lord and no one else, and they will pay for their treason._

_Now, I can do it all with just one blow._

_They will never know what stroked them. They will never find out. Now, where is my wand? I swear I put it somewhere . . . around . . . here . . ._

_The Malfoy heir and Potter. How wonderful!_

_I will use that unrepentant ponce . . . However I cannot act impulsively. I must think; I must plan; and then revenge!_

* * *

TBC


	3. New Beginnings

**Chapter 3: New Beginnings**

By Dani-ko  
Beta'd by MrsHellman, Sevfan and Tavia_d

* * *

The end of July was approaching faster than usual and Harry feared the 31st.

He was yet to send a message to the real world and he suspected that if he didn't say something until his birthday, the Weasleys would reason that something was wrong. He didn't want to go back just yet. He really had been enjoying these short holidays.

Practically two months had passed since he and Malfoy had begun to be cordial to each other and they kept getting closer, even if all of this happened without the other knowing it.

They didn't do much during the day, though. Still, they spent their days together.

Usually it began with breakfast and reading the Daily Prophet. They both received it so they read in silence, occasionally making a comment about some news or other things. Then they would just hang out until lunch time, reading or playing board games or anything at all, just to make the time pass. Sometimes they would go out for lunch. Most villagers were too busy rebuilding their lives to care about the two boys – Harry suspected that no one had noticed they were in Hogsmeade so far and, if they did, they respected their privacy. During the afternoon, they would help in the reparations of the castle. Harry had owled Professor McGonagall volunteering both himself and Malfoy to do it.

The blond didn't find it so amusing when he found out, but Harry sure did, because Malfoy's expression had been priceless.

It was in the evening that Harry had more fun. After finishing for the day in the castle, they would play Quidditch. Harry just loved this part of their routine. When you flew, you didn't have time to think or to keep appearances; it was raw, impulsive and immensely gratifying. That was how Harry knew that Malfoy was really enjoying their time together and it felt great to give and receive something in equal amounts.

That day, their routine had been the same, and that was the reason why one could find the two of them soaring through the skies of dusk in the middle of the Hogwarts' Quidditch pitch.

Well, one of them was soaring, the other was just watching, mesmerized.

Draco watched in amazement as Potter caught the Snitch – for what felt like the hundredth time – extremely quickly for someone using an archaic broom. If Harry was a complete troll on ground – which was not quite true, but Malfoy was just that nice – his grace and elegance in the skies made up for it. Not even Draco himself was that great when playing Quidditch, or even riding a broom for that matter, but he didn't care all that much at the moment, because he felt privileged to see such a sight.

They had been playing for two months and the blond never ceased to be amazed, and all thanks to a certain raven-haired teen. They had played in all positions, having extreme fun as Beaters, always one-to-one, and Harry was always fast, precise and effective. Pretty much like the night when he had defeated the Dark Lord. The Golden Boy was something else; to see those green eyes lit up as they met Draco's made the Slytherin warm with satisfaction. Draco was glad that they had found this new thing between them, because it made him really happy. Then again, Quidditch was something both of them enjoyed.

They were playing Seeker that day and Draco tried his best to catch the Snitch before Potter.

Neither had mentioned it, but despite all these bonding activities they did, what they really appreciated was the conversations. They were never silent. Even though any reference to the war and Voldemort was still a taboo, they had learnt a lot about each other, enough to make the sense of some of the other's actions. It was so easy to fall into conversation. They could never know how it had started.

Harry had learned all about Malfoy's upbringing and a lot more that he would be happy not knowing about pureblood traditions. He learnt that Draco was betrothed and with no intentions of going forward with it, which made Harry happy, because honestly no one should make that kind of decision for him. He learned that the Slytherins were small deviants at night, in their common room. He still blushed at some stories Malfoy told.

What Harry prized the most, though, was when Malfoy told him that he had always been jealous of Ron and Hermione for being so good friends with Harry. He had felt so good when he heard that, that he couldn't help but to smile brightly, which resulted in a blushing Malfoy, scoffing and leaving him alone on the pitch.

While Potter was an accepting and understanding person, Draco was not. He wouldn't change his opinion about the Gryffindor prat just because they shared some things. That's what he found himself doing, though. He found himself more than happy to listen while Potter rambled on about his life and opinions.

Malfoy had heard Potter talk about his abusive family, his annoying friends, his blushing girlfriend, and how all of it was so suffocating. He'd heard stories about the Gryffindor since he was eleven years old, and most of the stories were about the boy fighting the Dark Lord. All of that made Draco's opinions about Potter get more positive and impressed, not that the Gryffindor noticed, thank Merlin. Draco felt proud knowing that, other than himself, probably just the Weasel and Granger that knew about this – and they had been first-hand witnesses, whereas Harry had chosen to confide in Draco.

It was a humbling thought and he swore to himself that he would not betray the raven-haired teen's trust and use their new-found friendship against Harry or explore his weaknesses; Harry was a real friend and he would be cherished like one.

In the end, it was those conversations that made them closer to each other than before, to the point where they were not the Malfoy heir and the Golden Boy, just Draco and Harry. They were yet to say that to each other. For now Malfoy and Potter would have to do, even though the words were spoken in a much softer tone than previously.

By the end of the evening, both boys were walking towards the inn, tired, sore and incredibly satisfied thanks to the Quidditch practice; it was extremely refreshing, they noticed.

Suddenly, Harry felt a chill running down his spine. He looked around alarmed. Draco noticed right away.

"What is it, Potter?" the blond asked, glancing back when he noticed that Harry was not following him anymore, as Harry grinned sheepishly.

"Nothing, I'm just being paranoid," the Gryffindor answered and that made Draco freeze.

"I'm a firm believer in intuition. If you felt something . . ." He let the words hang loosely in the air.

"I felt as if we're being watched." Never once had Harry sounded so unsure of himself. To his credit, intuition was not something that he would rely on. It was the same with Divination: undocumented knowledge.

Draco took the lead by grabbing Harry's wrist and pulling him towards the inn as fast as he could walk without making people notice them more than necessary. Harry let himself be dragged without a single word leaving his lips; he could understand the other man's worry.

As soon as they reached the door of the pub, Draco looked around and pushed Harry inside with a hand on the base of the Gryffindor's back. Only after he made sure they were not being followed, did he enter the building. He had a strange feeling, though. There was a presence somewhere and it was a familiar presence . . .

* * *

_That's all I need to know, dear Draco._

_I've been watching them since that first day. They are getting close. I think that they haven't noticed yet, but for an outsider, it is quite obvious. The way they walk side by side, they fall into step, they move at the same time._

_It is called the lover's dance, I believe._

_Humph . . . I never knew the Saint Potter swung that way._

_I have never experienced such a thing, but my life was full of it thanks to the Dark Lord. And now it's empty._

_I will not live like this, but I can't end it now! I've got something to do before that. Something to do before ultimately avenging my Lord._

_I am not sure whether they will be having a physical relationship or not, but the fact is that they will grow closer and Potter will not allow Draco Malfoy to suffer . . ._

_Exactly what I expect of him._

* * *

Draco climbed the stairs two steps at a time, not really paying attention to where he was going and that was why, when he got to the common room, he crashed into something solid. Who else than the Golden Boy himself?

Harry was staring at something and he wasn't even focusing on the man who just crashed into him, so Draco, being taller, peeked over the Gryffindor's shoulders, only to see another Gryffindor, fuming, with her hands on her hips, looking positively threatening, who was none other than Hermione Granger.

"Harry Potter," she said with a voice that reminded Harry of Molly Weasley, and that was not a good thing, not when it comes to the voice.

"Hello, 'Mione," he answered weakly, and his voice cracked. He coughed a little to make it functional again.

Draco found himself smirking at the display. It figured Granger was the 'alpha' in the Golden Trio. Both Harry and the Weasel were too hot-headed to have the same control that Granger managed. His amusement increased when she had to take another look at him to recognise him as Draco Malfoy.

"Hello, Granger." She didn't respond to that, just looked at him with contempt and proceeded to ignore him . . . or would have, if she hadn't seen the sadness in Harry's eyes at her display; and simply because she wanted Harry to be well and happy, she swallowed her pride.

"Good evening, Malfoy." Recognising her action for what it was, the blond nodded in appreciation. A wave of comprehension passed between them. They would get along for Harry, because neither of them wanted to hurt the boy.

As Draco soon realised, Hermione was a witty and smart person. She had noticed, during the minutes before greeting the blond, how the Slytherin stayed close to Harry, how their movements were harmonious, and now that she looked closer, she saw more than she wanted to. Harry was relaxed and much more carefree around the other male. Same went for Malfoy; she didn't think she had ever seen him look so friendly.

They were getting along, and that was what mattered, but how come? Well, she would find out soon enough – she hoped. The brunette sat down on one of the chairs and with a gesture, conveyed to the other two that they should do the same instead of just standing there. The boys occupied the sofa in front of her, before Hermione turned her full attention to Harry.

"Harry, do you even know how worried I've been?" she hissed so suddenly that Harry jumped. He straightened his back, and both Draco and Hermione could see that he was preparing himself to reason with her.

"I needed to, Hermione, you know that."

"Okay, but you have been gone for two months now, isn't it time to come home?" she retorted with a frown, her temper making sure the temperature in the room only got hotter at each passing minute. "Ron has been more annoying than usual without you. Molly and Arthur are trying to cope with the loss of one child, you could have at least said goodbye!"

"Hermione—" Harry pleaded with a pained expression. She looked guilty, while Draco was fascinated to have this kind of first-hand comprehension about the Golden Trio dynamics.

"I'm sorry, that was low of me," the curly-headed woman admitted. She shouldn't have brought Fred to the conversation. "But, I have been worried, Harry, I have . . ."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She put her hand over his with a pained expression. Harry knew that she was worried, but he didn't know what to do. "I understand. Do what you need to do to make peace with it." Apparently she knew something Draco did not. "I just lost it for a moment. You don't have to worry about the Weasleys. Both Molly and Arthur understood, they said so."

"I knew they would." He smiled as he thought about the Weasley family.

"Hum, Potter, whom do you need to make peace with?" Draco asked quietly. Both Harry and Hermione regarded him as if they just now remembered that he was there. Well, thank you very much for your attention, Potter!

Harry struggled with the idea of telling him what this all was about, but eventually made his resolution. Draco was not stupid; he must know that Harry was thinking about something, and it wouldn't surprise Harry if the Slytherin accurately guessed what the problem was.

"I killed a man," he answered with his eyes darting from Draco's to a spot on the floor. Draco nodded; he would most certainly bring up the subject later, when Granger wasn't around anymore. They stayed silent for a while.

Harry was wondering if he had done the right thing by telling Draco about that, Draco trying to send Granger away with the power of his mind, and Hermione trying to grasp this new relationship between the two born enemies. None of them achieved anything.

"How did you track him down, anyway, Granger?" the blond asked finally.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because if you can find him, so can other people find me," the boy retorted with a frown.

"And that would be a bad thing?"

"Yes, it would." It was bothersome to see them like this, Harry mused, studying the way Hermione and Draco interacted. They were so cautious with their words. Well, Hermione had been bullied a lot by Malfoy, so he couldn't blame her. The fact that she was actually trying to act civil with the blond meant a lot to Harry.

"I charmed the DA coins to point to each one's location. You still have yours."

"That silly thing you did in fifth year?" Draco intervened, teasing as always.

"It was not silly. If I remember correctly, it helped us fight the Death Eaters. Your father included," Harry defended, but he regretted his words the moment they were out of his mouth. Draco's eyes darkened, his jaw clenched and he looked at Harry in a disgusted way that the Gryffindor hadn't seen since their school days. Unintentionally, he flinched. At the look of surprised guilt in Harry's eyes, Draco calmed somewhat.

"I'll be in my room." With that he got up from his seat, and, with a last glance at Hermione, he said, "Goodbye, Granger, I hope I'll see around." He faced Harry. "When she leaves, come find me." Harry simply nodded, avoiding the gray eyes and somewhat ashamed of himself. He looked up, surprised to see Draco's gaze still locked on him. He held that gaze, until the blond turned around and went upstairs.

"Damn it," Harry swore under Hermione's scrutiny, "I shouldn't have said that."

"I guess not," the girl agreed, "Although the real question is, why do you care?" Harry stared at her. Yes, why did he care? Because they were friends? Or getting there? He didn't know exactly, but he really cared for Malfoy. Maybe he didn't trust him yet, but he cared enough to try. He just hoped that the blond felt the same way.

"I care about him, 'Mione," he simply answered. She nodded, apparently understanding what he meant.

"I thinks he does too, Harry."

"I hope so." She smiled sympathetically as she saw the concern in those green eyes.

"How long has he been here?" she ended up asking.

"He arrived before me, so I don't really know."

"Look, Harry, nobody knows about the Malfoys since the Battle of Hogwarts. We're still quite shaken, so nobody cares, but something may have happened, otherwise Malfoy would be at home," Hermione said with a thoughtful look on her facial features.

The brunette didn't know what was happening between her best friend and the Malfoy heir, but she did know that the war and the previous years had not been kind to Harry. Maybe he needed some time away from all the people who had fought with him, because they reminded him of things he preferred to forget. Malfoy was just as hurt. Perhaps they could help each other to deal with things and thoughts that neither Ron nor Hermione could help him with. Things no one could help him with. Both of them had been used, had done things most grown up wizards didn't have the guts to do, and did it for the sake of the people they loved. That was meant to bring people together.

That was why she hadn't stridden into the inn right after Harry's disappearance. She only wanted Harry to be happy. She would even fight the Weasleys if it came down to it.

"I don't know anything," Harry told her, and she merely shrugged.

"Me neither." They sat in silence for a while, but Hermione was yet to state her business. As it was, the girl straightened her back and got ready for a lecture.

"Harry," she started, "I think you should meet the Weasleys, Remus and Tonks for your birthday. They want to celebrate it with you, and people are getting restless about you being missing."

"Hermione—"

"Don't Hermione me," she interrupted, narrowing her eyes at the male, who shrunk back into the chair he was sitting on. "We are all sore from the war, but it's during times like these that family is needed. Don't push us away, okay?" How could he deny her anything when she spoke of the things he had so strongly defended? Besides, for one night, he could deal with it. Harry already missed them, anyway, and this was the perfect opportunity. He could stay with them during the day, for only a couple of hours, no – for the day, and then go back to the Hog's Head Inn – and Draco, but he squashed that thought right away.

"Fine, but just for one night." She grinned happily and agreed. Something lit up in Harry's mind. What about Draco? He was pretty sure that he would not be welcome. As always, the girl appeared to understand him completely.

"It's not a good idea, Harry."

"What is?" She gave him that look, the one that said 'Do you think I'm stupid?'. He sighed. "I know he would not be welcome. It was just wishful thinking."

"Maybe someday he will."

"Yeah, I would like that." He never gave that specific thought much attention, nor did he notice the bemused expression Hermione made. He would notice them and their meaning in due time though; she just hoped it wouldn't turn out to be anything too horrible.

Later – after dinner, when Hermione left – Harry knocked on Draco's door, his thoughts running wild in his mind; it was annoying to say in the least. The boy appeared soon after, still dressed in the same clothes as during dinner, and he wearing reading glasses. That shocked Harry a little bit. He looked so relaxed and casual. His eyes grew cold when he saw that it was Harry by the door.

"Yes?"

"Can I come in?" Harry asked, somewhat nervous.

"Sure," Draco agreed, while stepping to the side, allowing Harry into his domain. The Gryffindor sat down on the chair by the desk, while the blond sat down on the armchair by the window; said man looked up, obviously waiting. That cold indifference was really getting on Harry's nerves.

"I'm sorry," Harry started, "It was wrong of me to say something like that. I don't hold anything your father did against you, you know that. I was just saying . . . I know it's still too soon to say things like that. I mean; it's not like we're best friends, but really, I didn't mean to offend you! And I know it was wrong to tell something like that in front of Hermione, but—"

"Potter," Draco interrupted the rant by holding up a hand. "It's fine, really. I just wanted you to tell me that you didn't mean it. I believe you." He smiled as those words left his lips, and Harry smiled back.

"I really am sorry."

"Don't let it bother you."

"Okay."

"Good." The silence that settled was an awkward one. They shouldn't care what the other did or said, but they did, and it was so new that they didn't quite know how to act. Eventually though, Harry got up from his seat and swallowed thickly before looking up at the blond.

"Okay, then," he started. "I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow for breakfast?" Draco's smile was warm.

"Of course. 9 a.m. sharp."

* * *

Harry straightened his crimson button-up shirt for the umpteenth time. It had been a while since he and Draco had had that talk after Hermione's visit, and in all honesty, everything had been going well ever since.

He wouldn't feel comfortable seeing the Weasleys after two months without as much as sending a letter, and so his shirt was paying for it. He was wearing black slacks and boots. His hair was the same mess as always, but he thought it looked quite well on him; it suited him somehow. Finally, after a lot of teasing comments from Draco, he Flooed to the Burrow, a smile on his lips the entire time.

Everyone was waiting for him when he got there. As soon as he entered the kitchen, the Happy Birthday carol was heard loud and sound. Harry smiled happily at his friends. All the Weasleys were there, as well as Hermione, Tonks and Remus, Andromeda, Neville and his grandmother and some other members of the old Order of the Phoenix.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione came and enveloped him a bear hug. "I'm so glad you came." He grinned sheepishly, and then looked up to everybody in the room.

"I'm sorry I left without saying anything."

"That's okay, sweetie," Andromeda said with a gentle smile on her lips; her facial expression was relaxed and it made Harry smile as well as he thought about how that woman could know that. "No one here blames you or even tried to be in your place. We all understand how empty you must be feeling." He smiled at her again and nodded his appreciation. She smiled back, with the wisdom of the elder.

"Well, enough of this," Mrs Weasley intervened, gently, if not a bit eagerly. "He's here, so let's celebrate." She shooed them to the kitchen for some proper meal. During the entire supper, the Weasley matriarch attacked Harry with questions about his welfare. He did his best to assure her that he was safe and sound, eating properly and coping with his problems quite well. Needless to say that he found it best not to mention Draco.

After the meal, Andromeda and Mrs Weasley cleaned the kitchen, while the others went to the living room. They sat randomly in the many seats around the big table. Ginny and Ron were yet to talk to him and his experience in the subject told him that it was best to wait for them to engage in conversation instead of him trying to start one when they were by themselves.

Bill and Fleur left right after dinner, just like Percy and Charlie. Not before wishing Harry a happy birthday and offering him their support. Percy had used a lot of words to say this, trying to hide his embarrassment in every way possible, obviously, he had failed miserably. Harry could see how shaken he had been for losing Fred.

Hermione was talking to Mrs Longbottom, while Neville stared into open space. His gaze locked with Harry's and he smiled a smile that was enough to bring him back to reality; Neville engaged in conversation with his grandmother and Hermione. He had always been strong. Harry bet that his practical mind had already come to peace with the war. He bet Neville thought what he did was justified so he had nothing to feel guilty for.

Unlike Harry . . .

On the other end of the couch, George was silent and it was obvious that his mind was elsewhere. Harry felt his heart clench at the broken look in his eyes. George was standing by his side and without thinking Harry put a hand on his shoulder. He realised he never tried to say how sorry he was and he felt guilty for putting his problems above the suffering of his surrogate family. The man put his hand on top of Harry's, but gave no other indication that he was there. Harry held his hand and didn't let go even as he talked to the others.

The adults noticed the darkness in Harry's eyes and George's first action in months. Suddenly the mood changed as they mourned for the lost innocence of these children.

"Harry, how have you been doing? In all seriousness?" Remus asked, sitting in front of Harry in an armchair; he'd decided to give them other things to think about. The younger man finished his drink and lifted his head.

"Actually I've been doing well," Harry stated honestly. "I just needed to get away, but now I'm really having fun."

"Alone?" Hermione asked with a mischievous smirk, and he glared at her, but she wasn't sorry. It was important for the adults to know that Harry had company.

"No, I met someone actually." He didn't think it was a good idea saying who that was, it would most certainly create a fight; verbal or physical, it didn't matter. He didn't notice that his eyes lit up and his voice softened, though, but Ginny did. She knew she should be expecting this, especially after he had told her that they wouldn't be getting together right away, but it hurt nonetheless. She would talk to Harry about it.

Ron noticed too.

"So, that's what you've been doing? Cheating on my sister," he said bitterly with a dark look in his eyes that made Harry look up at his best friend with a frown.

"Ronald," warned Ginny and Hermione in unison. Harry sighed, resignedly, as he noticed that Ron took no notice of the girls.

"Ronald! I won't tolerate your temper today," came the muffled voice of Mrs Weasley from the kitchen, and Ron pouted as he heard the warning tone and then he left for the garden.

"Who is it, Harry?" Arthur asked. He couldn't care less about these teenage affairs, but he cared about Harry's safety. Harry blushed. Most of them gaped at this; the others hid their surprise well. Harry never got this flushed. The boy had a major crush! "You know that you must be careful. You never know what someone's intentions are."

"Yes, so he has told me," he said fondly. His companions blushed. The boy had a major crush on another boy! And the main problem was that he didn't even notice it. On the bright side, George's attention was gained.

"I can't believe it," he said, grinning, and somehow it made Harry smile on the inside. "Harry Potter likes boys?"

"What?" Harry snapped his head at him, completely shocked. "That's ridiculous."

"Oh, my, a closet case!" George exclaimed, clapping his hands in delight. He didn't notice that the others in the room were confused. Should they worry about Harry liking boys, or about George talking again? "If you want I can teach you a few things."

"What? George!" the raven-haired teen protested.

By now, Harry wasn't even getting attention anymore, everyone was watching George. He hadn't said a word in weeks. Mrs Weasley would have yelled at him for being so vulgar, but this was definitely a good sign. She fought back her tears and tried to be happy for George. The lonely twin's attention was fixated on Harry, though.

"Really, Harry, it is an honest offer."

"Please stop it!"

Then, Harry spent the next fifteen minutes assuring everyone that Malfoy – of course he didn't use his name – did not want to hurt him and that no, he was not under a potion or spell, that the bloody git could be funny from time to time and that he really was enjoying himself when in the other's presence. Finally, to shut them up, he told them he was staying at the Hog's Head Inn. Regardless to say, nobody believed him about his mysterious companion, but refrained themselves from saying anything. At least, now they knew where to look if something happened.

"Look, Harry, I can't lock you up," Arthur started, and it was obvious that Mrs Weasley, Remus and Tonks agreed, or else, he would be locked up already. "But I want you to write every week, or else we will find you. Is that clear?" Harry nodded, annoyed due to the fact that he was being treated as a child.

"There is nothing wrong in being safe," Remus added as he noticed this, and Harry finally agreed. Not verbally, of course. "Do we know this person?"

"This is stupid," Harry snapped as he felt his anger rise. "It's okay. It's just someone who's been keeping me company. Nothing more, nothing less." He saw them relax a bit, but not completely. "He has attended Hogwarts. He just needs space, and is staying at the Hog's Head as well. He doesn't want anybody to know he's there." That worked. Apparently, Hogwarts' students were trustworthy. What would they say about Draco, if they found out that it was him, that is? Finally, Harry decided he had more urgent business to deal with.

"I'm going to talk to Ron. Excuse me." He got up and he left the room. He found the redhead underneath a tree. Harry approached him, slowly, with his hands in his pockets.

"Ron."

"Why did you leave, Harry?" That was Ron answer, oddly without losing any time. "We are all hurt. George hasn't said a word since Fred - you know. Mum and Dad don't speak with each other. Ginny is broken because you don't want her, and Hermione needs one of her best friends."

"I feel guilty for Hermione, but I reckon your family doesn't need me here to remind them who is the cause of all this." Ron looked at him as if he was only seeing him now.

"It's not your fault, mate," he whispered, reassuringly. "Any of it. You saved us all."

"I know," Harry said, as he sat beside Ron, even though it was obvious that he didn't. "As for Ginny, I just can't." Ron tensed.

"You don't want to get together with her?" Harry sighed.

"No, I don't think so," he replied honestly and Ron furrowed his brows. "I love her, but not like that. Maybe I did once, but not anymore. She's more like a sister than anything else. She's more than a friend, but she's not someone I could have a romantic – sexual – relationship with." Ron stayed silent for a while.

"I'm not mad, you know," he said, at last. "You are my brother. As long as you don't hurt her on purpose, it's okay. I won't turn my back on you again."

"Thanks, mate," Harry said, and bumped their shoulders together. They laughed and sat in silence enjoying each other's company. Then, they heard a feminine sigh.

"I thought I would have to stop a fight or something," Hermione said as she crossed her arms. She sat down between them, holding Harry's arm and intertwining her fingers with Ron's. They sat like that for a long time, just basking in the stars' light and the fact that they were alive.

"How long haven't we been like this? Just the three of us," the girl all but sighed the question.

"Who knows?" Ron answered, softly. "The Golden Trio together again, look at that," he joked with a stiff smile.

"You sound like Malfoy," Harry said, quietly, trying not to disturb the peace, but unable to avoid bringing the blond into the conversation . . . Shite! He'd just said Malfoy.

"Merlin, Harry, don't say something like that!" Hermione and Harry laughed, enjoying their private joke, even though Harry somehow felt a small pang of guilt in his chest. He felt peaceful nonetheless, since he had really missed his friends.

They spent the rest of the evening talking about all sorts of stupid things. They laughed, they mourned, they remembered and they just enjoyed each other's company. They had been through so much together, they knew each other so well, and they really did miss each other.

When Harry returned to the Hog's Head Inn that night, he felt really relaxed and genuinely happy. He hadn't felt that in almost a year.

He took two steps at the time in the stair, intending on catching up with Draco. He knocked on the door and waited for the blond's answer. Soon enough, he was allowed in. His heart sank when he saw the look in Draco's eyes. His cold expression was in place but his eyes were not warming like Harry had grown used to, but cold and distraught.

"What happened?" Harry asked and felt his heart throb painfully as Draco bowed his head.

* * *

TBC


	4. The Malfoy Manor

**T****he Malfoy Manor**

By Dani-ko  
Beta'd By MrsHellman, Sevfan, Tavia_d

* * *

"What happened?" Harry asked, suddenly worried.

"Nothing to worry about, Potter. It happens on daily basis," Draco answered dryly, even though it was obvious that it was not true. The blond sighed, knowing that he had no right in taking this out on Harry. "My house has been attacked."

"What? How is that something not to worry about?"

"It's not something that hasn't happened before . . . although this time, they managed to break the wards," he mused to himself; then, he saw the look in Harry's eyes: the look that told Draco the Gryffindor was determinate on making everything alright again. Bloody hero. "Is it too much to ask you not to put your nose in this business?"

"Yes, it is!" Harry exclaimed, annoyed by Draco's indifference. He was scared, Harry could tell, so why not just run home to make sure everything is okay? "Why the hell are you still here? Did anyone call the Aurors? How's your family? What did they want? Do you know who did it?"Draco sighed and sat down on his armchair by the window. Harry followed him, but didn't sit down; he paced around the room instead. There was more to it, Harry saw it now.

"They left a message," the blond stated after a while. "It read something along the lines: '_You filthy bloodtraitors, you will pay for your betrayal to the Dark Lord, and not even Harry Potter can save you now._'" He looked up at Harry, and the latter's heart clenched painfully.

"Is it my fault?" he asked quietly, as if he was afraid to speak aloud and make it true.

"What? Of course not!" Draco answered immediately, looking at Harry as if the he was crazy. "The main problem here is that I'm afraid they know where I am."

"You think they saw us together?" Harry asked, somewhat relieved to know that Draco didn't blamed him. Had this occurred years ago and the blond wouldn't have thought twice about blaming Harry.

"It's possible."

"And is your family okay?" Draco sighed.

"Yes, whoever it was killed a house elf and spelled the porcelain and portraits of the house to scream the message _continuously_ – my mother was nearly losing it when she wrote. The body was left lying there, maimed and up for a show." He narrowed his eyes as he remembered it. "I really liked that bloody creature. It used to give our prisoners food without consent, and it was never caught; it used to help me, during the time _he_ was at my house. It was a righteous little thing." He chuckled softly. "My mother sent me a letter. The owl has been flying around until it found me. Mother is a little shaken, but she is strong and she will recover."

It didn't go unnoticed by Harry that Draco didn't mention his father. Harry decided not to pry further, but he would as soon as the chance presented itself. "You should be there with her," he ended up saying.

"I don't know if I'm ready for that."

"Don't be selfish!" Harry snapped. "Who cares if you are ready or not? She needs you, act like her son."

Draco's head snapped at Harry whilst hearing those words, intending on giving the boy a piece of his mind. However, the look of sheer determination and honourable belief Harry was wearing had always managed to throw him off balance. He turned his back on the Gryffindor, gathering his thoughts. He didn't want to go home. He was not strong like his mother; he could not deal with his father's . . . i_condition/i_. Besides, he didn't think he could find the strength to live in that house again.

"I should go, shouldn't I?" he asked, after a moment. Harry bit back a snappish retort at the blond's defeated tone. Draco should cherish what he had, and that was a family that loved him enough to break free from the Dark Lord's influence.

"Yes, you should. They need you and would be happy to see you."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Harry blinked confused.

"What will you do? It's not like you are going to sit here alone," Draco explained, gesturing vaguely. His heart was beating fast with the possibilities running through his mind.

"I don't know. Maybe I will return to Grimmauld Place . . ."

"Or, you could come with me."

"What?" Harry really hoped he had heard correctly.

"I perfectly understand that you don't want to. I'm just saying that if you are not ready to come back, you could stay with me. The Manor has many rooms, you wouldn't have to deal with Mother or Father or even I, if that's what you want. . ." He was ranting; he knew it and, much for his eternal displeasure, so did Harry. He was shocked to say in the least; Malfoys do not rant like lovesick schoolgirls. "I know my house is associated with some traumatic experiences, but if you could give it a chance, I think—"

"I would love to," Harry replied quietly, successfully interrupting him. He looked a bit shy and Draco was not sure why that had pleased him.

Harry straightened his shoulders and looked up, challenging. Whether it was because he was acting like a _blushing_ lovesick schoolgirl, which was a bit worse than how Draco's own act, or daring Draco to make fun of it, the blond did not know.

"If you're sure, that is."

"I'm sure."

"Okay then."The conversation died.

Draco was mesmerized by the slight pink adorning Harry's cheeks, by the light in his eyes – which told the blond that Harry was happy for the invitation – and then it dawned on him. He had just asked the Golden Boy, the Gryffindor hero, the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-The-Living-Hell-Out-Of-Draco-Malfoy, to his house!

That had been the most trustful action he had ever taken and he hadn't even thought it through before asking Harry if he was interested. He certainly must be ill. On another hand, the fact that Harry trusted him enough to follow him to the manor humbled him beyond measure. Around Harry, every little thing seemed like such a grace that Draco forgot his essential dogmas – that since he was a pureblood, he deserved all the graces in this world. Suddenly, he didn't see himself as worthy anymore. Suddenly, he felt oddly ordinary.

"I should go and pack, then. When are we leaving?" Oh, dear. That was music to Draco's ears. i_'When are we/i_ – we! – i_leaving?'/i_ Such a wonderful sentence spoken by such rosy lips. Unintentionally, Draco's cheeks tinged pink, but neither boy acknowledged it – one was in denial and the other was just oblivious.

"Tomorrow morning is good for you?" "Sure, anytime you want."

Oh, wasn't that even more heavenly? i_'Anytime you want.'/i_ Draco would make sure that he would want a lot of things and he would want it anytime. Regardless to say, he was just hearing selectively now.

Harry left in that moment, leaving Draco feeling a bit lightheaded.

Harry Potter had just agreed to stay at his house for the holidays. Of course, the circumstances were a bit different than those he had imagined when he was younger, but still. Draco could now say that he and Harry were good friends; then, horror settled in his mind. That meant Harry was going to see his father.

Essentially, Draco was revealing his biggest weakness to his greatest enemy. Harry was not his enemy anymore, though, and, well, Draco was still far from being like Ron of course, but Harry seemed to care about him to some extent.

The blond shook his head to disperse his contradicting thoughts. For the first time since he was a child, he was going to take a chance on this. The prize was worth the risk.

How long had it been since he had actually got a friend? Except for Theo Nott maybe, he had no real friends – only underlings – and Theo and Draco had only got close because of their families' influence. This thing with Harry was new, but so rewarding.

Draco sat down at his desk, writing a detailed letter to his mother about where he had been, telling her he was going to bring Harry Potter to the manor and warning her about what to do and not to do. He hoped she wouldn't get too mad having her son being more demanding than usual.

In a room two doors away, Harry was gaping in wonder. He never thought he would mean enough to Draco to have the blond trusting him with something as precious as his intimacy. The little he knew about pureblood relations – knowledge he gathered from Draco and Fleur mainly – was that they were very private people. It was as if the world was constantly trying to take advantage of them – this probably had been true some time far back in History.

So, having Draco invite him to his house was something else; it was something new.

Harry laughed at himself. It had been such a long time since he had actual fun in the Wizarding world. He didn't know exactly when, but sometime after the second year he had stopped caring for anything other than his own issues. He couldn't remember the last time he had actually had let anyone know him on a more intimate level.

Yes, there had been a lot of things he had learnt since then, but none of them made him get that feeling of wonder, like he had felt in those early years . . . With Draco now, he felt something new everyday and it felt_ iso/i_ good; while talking to the blond, he discovered things about himself he'd never known about before. He felt i_so/i_ alive.

_Oh, bollocks!_

Harry had almost forgot to send a letter to Arthur Weasly warning him about leaving Hogsmeade. He sent his new snowy owl, Odin, to deliver it, instructing the Weasleys to keep the owl until they needed it; that way, they could always find Harry.

* * *

That night, both boys fell asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows, tired as they were from the excitement of the day. The following day, the morning went by in a rush.

Between packing, checking-out and Dis-Apparating their luggage to the Manor, neither Harry nor Draco had had the time to feel insecure about this vacation. Soon enough, they were thanking Aberforth and positioned themselves in the check-out area – where the wards were down – so that they could Apparate away.

Harry felt that odd sensation of being compressed in space, before the Malfoy Manor's gate appeared before his eyes. He had always hated Apparating and there was nothing that could change his mind.

At the front door, a graceful woman was waiting for them.

Harry looked around and admired the garden. Deliciously full apple trees surrounded the whole property; the fountains were casting small rainbows in the air. Even so, there was still the distinct stench of Dark magic in the air. He walked down the magnificent lane, surrounded by bushes, until he reached the entrance.

Narcissa Malfoy smiled beautifully, but coldly, since her polite smile never reached her eyes. Mrs. Malfoy was wearing a black pencil skirt and a silk blue shirt. She wore pearls around her neck and in her ears. Her shoes were black and elegantly high. She extended her hand for her son to kiss.

Harry looked troubled. For him, it was weird that, after sometime apart, mother and son would not hug. Molly Weasley was very affectionate in that aspect. The blonde woman then turned to Harry and held out her hand as well. Harry shook it and bowed slightly. She returned the courtesy.

"I am delighted to welcome you to our house, Mr. Potter. Please feel free to enjoy the commodities we can offer you," Narcissa said mechanically as she had obviously said that many times before. Harry smiled at her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy, for having me." He blushed; it was not out of embarrassment, but due to the awkward situation. He really hoped that what he was about to say next wouldn't be taken as offense. "Please call me Harry." Her eyes widened. The raven-haired teen fidgeted. "If you wouldn't mind that is."

"Oh, no, dear," she quickly assured him, looking already much warmer and approachable as she spared a glance at her son, who was watching the scene, amused. Draco smirked. It was not often that his mother had to deal with Gryffindor warmness. "It's an honour to call you by your given name. Allowed me to return the courtesy . . . Call me Narcissa, dear."

Draco put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and the younger teen breathed in relief. Elegantly, Narcissa guided them into the house.

The hall was sumptuous. A dark red carpet directed him to the different divisions; to the left, was the dinning room where Voldemort had made his reunions; to the right, was the ball room, Harry could tell from the open doors; behind him was the greatest thing he had ever seen: a magnificent glass mural featuring Merlin and Arthur in Camelot. He hadn't noticed that the last time he had been to the Manor. Then again, he had had more important things to worry about.

Draco was watching Harry as the younger teen's gaze eventually wandered towards the dining room again. He should have known that Harry would be uncomfortable living in the house where the Dark Lord had almost killed him.

"Mother, I think it's best if we leave the hall," the blond suggested awkwardly. That brought Harry's attention back to them. Narcissa agreed immediately; she had also noticed Harry's discomfort.

"Yes, dear, I'm sure you boys would like to rest from your journey and unpack," the matriarch said. Draco looked at her challengingly.

"Actually Mother, I think it's best if we discuss more urgent matters first, don't you think?" Narcissa gave him a pointed look, which he held fearlessly. He was right and they both knew it. The blonde woman sighed, exasperatedly.

While it was obvious that they cared a lot about each other, Harry thought, they didn't speak their mind often; belonging to a powerful, proud family, neither of them would share their feelings lightly, since feelings were weaknesses. Draco had always been unable to understand this concept, however, even though he had eventually grown used to the appropriate behaviours.

It had been these family ideals that almost made Narcissa lose her beloved son and husband. Therefore, she was more than glad to make concessions on the subject. She smiled.

"Of course, dear," she acquiesced and turned sideways, gesturing towards the staircase. "Would you boys care to join me for tea?" Swiftly, Draco strode past his mother and held out his arm to hold as he guided her to her private room.

"Hum, Narcissa, Draco," Harry called, uncertainly. Both blonds looked at him, questioningly. "I think it's better if I leave you two alone. You must have a lot to talk about . . ." He let his train of thought hang in the air.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, her demeanour suddenly changed, "for the consideration."

Harry looked confused, but Draco looked away to hide his satisfaction. He really appreciated the respect Harry showed everyone, as if everyone was worthy of his consideration, which couldn't be farthest from the true. He could tell his mother felt the same way.

"That won't be necessary. Mother and I would like you to listen as well. After all, your name was mentioned, isn't that right, Mother?" Narcissa nodded. "Would you join us, Potter?"

Harry agreed meekly. He had been in their presence only for ten minutes and he was already tired. It seemed like everything had sported an innuendo, as if they never spoke their true meaning. Suddenly, Draco seemed more admirable; even though he had been raised in such environment, he was still capable of speaking his mind clearly. Or else, he would just stay quiet. That was something Harry had always appreciated: people who spoke with him without restraints, like a certain Severus Snape.

Narcissa guided them to her classic drawing room on the first floor – which access was made by the luxurious staircase – where everything was so feminine and elegant that it could only belong to a lady.

The division had a fireplace on the left side, while the front of the wall was covered by large windows; on the right side, a balcony could be seen, making access for the gardens. The crimson curtains were open, so Harry could see the sky and the glorious grounds; comfortable brown sofas and armchairs were placed in front of the fireplace, and a desk and a tea table in dark wood also decorated the room.

She gestured towards the sofa in front of her armchair and the boys sat down. Draco was obviously used to keep his mother company, as he crossed his legs and stretched a hand to the cookies on the small table. Harry was tense, though, but relaxed a bit when he saw Narcissa's welcoming smile.

"Tell me, Mother, do you have an idea who it might have been?" Draco started the conversation. Narcissa tensed perceptibly.

"No, I have not. I have called the Aurors, but they sent a i_child/i" she sneered,_ "to take my i_complaint/i_ and then dismissed it as Death Eater work," she finished bitterly. "I'm afraid i_they/i_ don't want to get in the middle of Death Eater revenge."

Harry was getting angrier by the minute. Honestly, how could the Minister preach equality and justice and then turn their backs when someone needed them? He would have to have a conversation with Shacklebolt and then—

"Don't even go there, Potter," Draco interrupted his thoughts, without taking his grey eyes from the cookie on his hand.

"What?"

"Very eloquent, as always," the blond taunted, flashing Harry a brilliant smile. His voice held no animosity. "Don't even think about interfering with this matter. If the Minister thinks that they should not intervene, so be it, okay?" Harry shifted uncomfortable. Draco chuckled. "I was right, I see." Then, he sobered. "I'm serious, Harry."

It went completely unnoticed by Draco how Harry blushed profusely when the blond called him by his given name without realising it. Narcissa noticed, though, and she smirked. Oh, how much fun she was going to have during these days. Her son turned his attention back at her and she placed her proper ladylike mask back in place.

"But, Mother, they must have left some clue? I mean, how did they break the wards?" Narcissa tensed again. Both Draco and Harry had already noticed that something was off. Narcissa was hesitating and obviously overwhelmed, if her dead eyes were of any indication that she was keeping some emotion carefully hidden.

"Mother, please tell me."

"I had a nightmare that night . . . awfully real and then, when I woke up, my house had indeed been attacked," she explained, reluctantly. "I am certain that it is impossible that my nightmare was actually true."

"Who was it, Narcissa? Maybe it could be a clue . . ." Harry intervened – it felt oddly strange to use 'Narcissa' instead of 'Mrs. Malfoy'. The blonde woman looked at him sadly.

"Please, boys, do not insist. I know for sure it is impossible." She straightened her back and raised her head, as if shaking away her insecurities. "The priority now is to change the wards," she told them. "I'm afraid only the head of the family can do that. It has to be you, Draco dear."

Harry refrained from asking why Lucius Malfoy couldn't do it, since it was obviously something that both blondes were avoiding at all costs. "Should I help in any way?" Harry asked.

"Oh, no, dear, that won't be necessary," Narcissa replied, "although I must warn you: you are probably going to feel a light headache, since the wards will be changed to allow you in."

"Oh, I'm sorry for troubling you."

"Nonsense. It's a pleasure to have you here," was the woman's immediate reply. The rest of conversation was light and entertaining for all of them.

Narcissa had been interested in what they had been doing so far, and was more than happy to provide them time to bicker before calling their attention to the fact, relishing on the boys' embarrassment. Oh, it was wonderful to be young and in love, although she feared their reactions when understanding finally dawned on them . . .

* * *

The following day, Harry woke up early.

He showered in the amazing bathroom he had in his room and dressed neatly, before heading out; he knocked on Draco's door, but the blond was still asleep. Not wanting to intrude, Harry decided to find Narcissa. She was sure to be up before ten o'clock, and it was ten and a half at the moment.

All the bedrooms were on the second floor, so he had to walk downstairs to search for Narcissa in her drawing room. The stairs leading to the first floor were, so far, his favourite part of the house; they were built outside of the construction in a glass tower. From there he could see the greenhouse and the pool out in the garden.

With luck on his side, he would find Lucius instead, he mused, gazing outside, blinking at the intensity of the sunlight. His mind wandered to last night's supper.

Unable to contain his curiosity and worry any longer, Harry had asked if there was something wrong with Lucius. The reactions were concerning. Draco had stiffened and let his silverware slide out of his grasp. Narcissa had tensed, but still looked at Harry gently.

"Thank you for your concern, dear," she had said and, when Harry was preparing himself to see the subject dropped after this nice attempt to make him withdraw his curiosity, she spoke up. "I'm afraid Lucius has suffered a great deal with the end of the war. He has been unable to attend any social events."

That had successfully shut him up for the rest of the evening, more in respect for her consideration than anything else.

Harry was still not very familiar with the house's layout, so it was no surprise when, instead of opening the door for Narcissa's drawing room, he opened the door leading to Lucius' study. Yes, he was just that lucky, he thought with a sigh.

At first, he could not tell where he was, except that it was a very austere room, all in dark colours and Slytherin tons. The room was bright since the green curtains by the windows in front of the door were already opened. Something on his left caught his attention; a mop of blond hair that could be seen at the top of a high armchair, which had its back towards Harry. The room was so silent that Harry hadn't noticed earlier that someone was there.

That _Lucius Malfoy_ was there, more precisely. The man was sitting in front of the fireplace playing chess alone, the Gryffindor noticed as he approached the man. He must have made some sort of sound because Lucius lifted his head and his grey eyes pierced Harry. He seemed confused for a moment, before anger settled on his face.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" There was no irritation to go with his harsh question, which confused Harry. "If the Dark Lord finds you here, there will be no hope for any of us."

Harry froze. What the hell was happening? Didn't Lucius know very well that Voldemort was dead? And this fear, the sadness in his eyes, his frame weighting with age Lucius didn't possess . . . what was this about? He thought about telling Lucius that he was wrong, that there was nothing to fear anymore, but, by now, he knew better than to jump into a decision without knowing all the details. So, he sat down in the chair in front of Lucius, carefully eyeing him.

"Please, Potter, you have to get out of here." The urgency in his voice was clear.

"Harry, dear." Harry looked up to see Narcissa standing in the doorway. Her expression was guarded, but she looked sad beyond any comfort. He got up when the blonde woman approached them. He spared a last glance at Lucius; he didn't seem to see his wife at all.

"I'll come back, Mr. Malfoy," the teen said. "I will help you." A frown appeared on the blond man's face; it was as if he had heard what Harry said, but had a hard time trying to comprehend it.

"Yes, boy, you can do that," he said, closing his eyes. "Please, avenge my family." Narcissa kissed her husband's forehead but Lucius didn't feel it. Harry's heart clenched at her pained expression. She gestured for the door and both of them left.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Harry addressed the blonde."Narcissa, I'm so, so sorry. I didn't realise that it was him. I had no intention of invading your privacy. I'm really sorry. I can't even begin to apologize." Harry had said all of this without taking a breath.

Narcissa faced him sadly. They were standing on the balcony of the first floor. In front of Harry, Merlin and King Arthur were presenting Sir Lancelot with a sword. "That's okay, dear," she began to turn, but Harry put a hand on her elbow to prevent her from doing so.

"What happened?" The blonde woman swallowed her tears.

"It's a curse. The Dark Lord cursed those who betrayed him," she explained. "He lives in an illusion." Harry's widened in disbelief. "The Healers at St. Mungo's couldn't help and neither could the private ones we hired." She leaned against Harry's touch on her arm. "Draco is devastated and to make it all worse, the Minister refuses to allow us any assistance from the Unspeakables. Once a Death Eater always a Death Eater."

"It's my fault," Harry said, while letting go of her arm. Narcissa smiled.

"Not you, too." At Harry's questioning look, she elaborated, "Draco said the same thing. It's not your fault, silly boy. The only one who should be blamed is that madman, and only him." Harry nodded obediently. She seemed to make up her mind about something.

"Harry, please understand I would not ask you this unless I had no choice," she started, hurriedly. "Draco is not going to like this . . . but, if there is anything you can think of to help us, I would be forever indebted to you."

Harry looked at her, surprised. Never had he imagined that this proud pureblood would regard him with so much respect and hope. He shook his head, disapprovingly. She would never be indebted to him; she saved his life after all, and that was precisely what he told her.

"My dear, you saved my son's life. Your debt towards me was paid before it even existed." Harry was at a loss of words. Narcissa seemed to understand his emotions.

"I will try, Narcissa. Anything I can do."

"Thank you, Harry. In all honesty." She took a deep breath to collect herself and allowed Harry to do the same. "Well, enough of this. Let's have breakfast in the dining room. That room needs better memories."

When Draco finally woke up, finished his morning routine and went downstairs to find Harry and his mother, he was surprised to see them talking amicably, while having breakfast in the dining room. Even from afar, he could tell that something between them had changed and that was when he heard Harry say his father's name. From the Gryffindor's expression, he just knew that Harry had found out about his father's condition.

So, Draco did the first thing that came to mind. He freaked out. In his rush to get out of there, he knocked a vase that was in the way, catching the attention of both his mother and Harry.

"Draco dear," he heard Narcissa call, but he just ran as fast as he could, leaving a shocked Harry behind. The Gryffindor turned to Narcissa, searching for an explanation. "You should go after him," she told him. "I can assure you that he is not upset because of me . . . Draco is probably in the greenhouses."

Without waiting for further explanation, Harry dashed from the room, using the glass doors that lead to the terrace and then to the garden. He was panicking as well. What if Draco was so mad at him that he didn't want to see him anymore? He really hadn't meant to invade the other's privacy; neither had he wanted to hurt Draco. He needed to explain.

The greenhouse door was ajar. Quietly, Harry pushed it open.

"Malfoy?" he called. No one answered. "Malfoy, please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry into your life. It was an accident."

"Go away, Potter. I don't need your pity."

"I don't pity you," Harry snapped angrily, and then rolled his eyes at his stupidity. He was supposed to help the blond, not aggravate him. "I want to help you."

"We don't need help. Where were you when I needed it? Now it's too late. It's done." Following the voice, Harry finally found Draco, hurled in a corner, behind a flower pot with Angel's Trumpet flowers. Draco was not crying but his voice was thick with tears. Harry sat down beside him.

"I'm really sorry for upsetting you," he said.

"Really, Potter, stop trying to solve everything." Draco sighed, exasperatedly. "I'm upset and I'm going to be upset for some time. There's nothing you can do about it."

"I can try, I reckon," was the retort he got. Draco scowled. "Really, Malfoy, it won't kill you to trust me." Harry was getting annoyed.

"No, but it can make my life miserable."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake. I would never use something like this against you," the Gryffindor retorted as if talking to a child, which didn't improve Draco's mood.

"Yeah, like you _didn't_ use my father's imprisonment."

"You're the one that always starts," Harry accused childishly. He groaned mentally in exasperation, as he realised what he had said.

"Am not!" Of course, he got a childish response.

"Oh, fine, sulk all you want," the younger teen said, while motioning to get up. Draco pulled his jumper and made him sit down quite violently. Harry glared at him. "What?"

"You have no idea about what I went through," was Draco's hissed answer. "So don't talk like I'm a spoiled child." That surprised Harry a little bit.

"You have no idea what I've been trough either, so don't patronize me!" Harry all but shouted.

They stared at each other for a while, in silence. Their choices were clear; leave or try. In the end, they both decided to try and solve their differences. Neither of them knew why they choose to stay, and neither wanted to find out, because subconsciously they knew they wouldn't like the answer.

Harry leaned against the flower pot, hoping that the flower wouldn't attack him. "I don't want to share yet," he said honestly. Draco nodded.

"I know." He bumped their shoulders together. "When I share, you share, remember?"

"Yeah, I do."

They smiled at each other. Then, they looked away, watching the sun pass through the front glass of the Greenhouse. Carefully, fearfully, Harry put his hand on top of Draco's. Neither of their faces and bodies gave any indication of that gentle act; it was as if nothing had happened, except for Draco, who shifted his hand to hold Harry's as well.

Outside, Narcissa made her retreat to the house, trying not to alert the boys by her presence. She hadn't meant to snoop, mind you, but let's say that she feared for her flowers if the boys engaged on a fight. What she had heard, though, was more than enough. Draco was in good hands.

That night, Draco took Harry to the top of the glass tower to show him the night sky – being especially enthusiastic about his constellation and its history. It wasn't anything new, but the company was. Harry laid himself on the floor and looked at the sky. Draco was lying next to him. It was peaceful.

* * *

TBC


	5. New Glasses and Hermione's Findings

**New Glasses and Hermione's Finding****s**

By Dani-ko  
Beta'd by MrsHellman, Sevfan and Tavia_d

* * *

It was early in the morning of an already warm August day.

Harry was sitting on the balcony of the guest bedroom he'd borrowed, enjoying his breakfast and trying to get his uncooperative mind to deal with the issues of the day. The spot had become his favourite part of the house for the short period of time he had been living there: the cool breeze, the peace of it, even the isolation. After a moment, he reached for the letters that the house-elves left for him every morning on the side of his tray.

It was not as if he was more popular these days, but there was always something from Remus, the Weasleys, Hermione, even Neville or Luna. So, it was unsurprising that one of those letters was from the brunette genius.

The first thing he had done after learning about Lucius' condition was to owl Hermione. He had told her that he was with Malfoy, where and why he was where he was; he had been sure she wouldn't judge him – maybe ask a lot of questions which actually happened, but she never judged. He had done his best to explain her about Lucius' symptoms and had told her what Narcissa had shared with him.

Hermione's answer was everything he had hoped for; her righteous little mind would, without a doubt, come up with something as soon as possible, just as she'd then promised, even while her response had been somewhat cautious and wary. She was strong like that.

It had been a week since and, apart for occasional brief notes and short queries on Lucius' health, she hadn't given him any hints as to what she'd discovered so far. That day's letter wasn't any different. Harry would have helped her if asked, but he knew better than to interfere with Hermione's research.

After another half an hour of laziness, he headed towards the bathroom to complete his morning routine. He showered, dressed himself and finished his morning ablutions quickly.

Looking at the watch Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had given him for his seventeenth birthday, he noticed that it was too early for Draco to be up since the annoying git would always sleep in during the holidays. Not being in the mood to spend the rest of the morning doing absolutely nothing, Harry decided to wake him up.

He carefully opened the door to Draco's room, afraid of getting caught in the act. As expected, the blond was deeply asleep; lying on his side, hair spread on the pillow, and a single sheet covering his pyjama clad body. He looked rather—normal, actually, when he had his guard down like this. Harry approached the bed.

"Malfoy," he called softly.

"_Do you like that, __cuteness? Do you like having my hands all over you like this?" Draco was saying. The green-eyed man in front of him moaned and arched his back against the blond's chest. Draco didn't know this stranger except for the fact that the man was making him impossibly – and incredibly – aroused. Swiftly, the raven-haired teen pinned him against the desk of the Potions classroom and started to make his way down Draco's body._

Draco moaned. Harry frowned as he heard this. He hoped that the blond was not sick, he thought worriedly. The blond was moving his hands through his own body. _'Holly fuck!'_ Was Draco having a—_dream_?

"Malfoy, wake up," Harry urged, feeling heat spread over his cheeks. He had to end this. He shook the blond harder.

_The erotic __raven-haired beauty was nibbling and sucking on his inner thigh, marking him, claiming him, as he moved closer to his target. He looked up at the blond and suddenly those green eyes appeared unbelievably familiar, but it was not possible, even if—oh, yes, the boy on his knees encircled Draco's erect member with his tongue and—_

"Malfoy, would you fucking wake up?"

Startled, Draco sat up, taking in his surroundings. He was not in the Potions classroom, that much he could tell. He looked around himself to find the green-eyed raven-haired teen hovering next to his bed—

"Malfoy, are you awake?" Oh, it was just Potter after all.

"Yes, thanks to you," he retorted bitterly, adjusting himself to reality and to the hardness between his legs. "I was having the most pleasant dream, I'll have you know," he informed Harry while covering himself and running a hand through his hair to make it look more presentable.

"Yeah, I could tell how much you were enjoying yourself," Harry sneered, as the blond's gaze wandered towards the watch on the bedside table. He had to do double-check to understand what time it was.

"Bloody hell, Potter! Why are you waking me up at this ungodly hour?"

"It's ten o'clock, you moron," Harry pointed out.

"I am the lord of this house; I am allowed to sleep as long as I want," Draco retorted, holding his head high in a childish manner. The Gryffindor rolled his eyes.

"Well, you should also keep your guests company," he said, making a disapproving sound flicking his tongue afterwards. "What would Narcissa say, knowing that you are such a terrible host?" The blond just narrowed his eyes at Harry, not really having an answer to that.

"Fine, fine, I'm getting up," he reluctantly agreed, and yawned rudely. "Wait for me for breakfast if you would." As soon as Harry turned towards the balcony, Draco proceeded to take a cold shower to keep his body under control.

While in the bathroom, he tried to remember something important about his dream, but he couldn't quite grasp it. He felt that he was missing something, but he soon forgot all about it, and focussed on the things he would do with Harry that day. Maybe he could show Harry the Quidditch pitch he had arranged in a clearing deep into the woods.

Meanwhile, Harry sat in the armchair by the window, relishing in the view over the forest at the back of the manor. Distractedly, he picked up the book Draco was currently reading. It was a sci-fi novel. Who would have thought that the blond was into this type of thing? Draco was a box full of surprises, wasn't he?

During the past week, Harry realised that not only did Malfoy read odd books, but he also painted – a big shocker – and played the piano. Narcissa had explained that all children should have several talents and it was up to their families to nurture them.

While Harry understood that, he couldn't help but to be a very impressed and touched by the sight of the blond lost in his musical interest. Suddenly, Malfoy looked a lot more appealing than before. After all, someone who played 'Moonlight Sonata' that well couldn't be a bad person.

Of course, as if that wasn't enough, Draco gardened. He took care of those pretty little flowers in the back garden. Maybe he did so against his will and mainly because Narcissa ordered him to, but he still did it surprisingly well.

And whilst the blond was enjoying – or not-enjoying – his hobbies, Harry had been more than happy to follow him around and observe this strange specimen that Draco Malfoy was revealing himself to be.

Oh, and it was not like Draco hadn't realised the interest Harry showed in his features when he was with the blond. By some odd and unknown reason, Draco was thrilled to have Harry's attention. Since childhood, he'd hated that stupid piano, those annoying paintings his mother made him do for decoration and those infuriating plants, which should be called awful-hands-on-roots, but, somehow, he was more than glad to show off his useless abilities to Harry.

Narcissa had been quite fond of taking advantage of the fact and have the time of her life watching her son get all flushed because of Harry's praise. The only thing that concerned her was how dense these boys were, but after all it was not like they'd ever had an innocent crush on somebody else, and it was not like she could enlighten them because they would just laugh at her. They would come around soon enough, she hoped.

Finally, Draco left the bathroom already dressed and groomed.

"So, Potter, what are we doing today?"

"Before we decide, I have to tell you something," Harry interrupted him quickly. "Tomorrow, I have something to do with Hermione and Ron. It's probably going to take me all day—"

In the present day's letter, Hermione had asked Harry to meet with her so that she could update him on her findings. He knew she missed the old days of the Golden Trio, doing research and solving the great mysteries of the wizarding world, so he had gladly acquiesced with her request.

Besides, he did have an appointment at St. Mungo's because of his eyesight, but that he wasn't planning on telling Draco that, at least not yet, or else the blond would insist in tagging along.

"Okay, I don't want to intrude on _the _Golden Trio," Draco joked. Then, he sobered. "What do you think about Quidditch for today?"

"Peachy."

* * *

"Harry!" Said boy was greeted by an excited Hermione, who threw herself at him for a tight, breathtaking, bone-crushing hug. He smiled, reasoning that some things never changed. He hugged her back, and they headed towards their chosen restaurant.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked, having noticed the absence of his best friend.

"Oh, he's helping George with the store; he'll join us after he's finished," she clarified, looking a bit miffed. "That gives us time to discuss some things without that nuisance." Harry frowned.

"Did you two have an argument?" She blushed again. Bull's eye. "Was it about what you've been doing for me?" She nodded weakly. "Oh, Hermione, I'm really sorry." And he was. She smiled at him, the determination in her eyes clear for him.

"Don't let that bother you, Harry." She looked ahead. "Ron's is very hot-headed. He needs to understand that sometimes the difference between right and wrong is not crystal-clear. And he must understand that my life doesn't revolve around him."

Harry sighed. He wondered if these two would ever get along. In that moment they arrived at _Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour_, now under a new owner.

They chose a table inside the store, hidden in a corner. A teen about their age came to take their orders, but lost himself goggling at Harry – especially at his forehead. Hermione's glare was all it took to remind him of his job.

"So, 'Mione, do you have something for me?" Harry asked as soon as their entrées arrived. She took a bite of her salad and glared for a moment.

"Obviously! But I have to ask, do you have any idea what you asked of me?" she questioned, a bit peeved at having her abilities questioned. Harry guessed she was a bit lost in her research and everybody knew that Hermione didn't like to feel like she was failing.

"Perfectly," he answered her cheekily. "You have been very explicit in those letters of yours." She narrowed her eyes again, and Harry grinned, before getting serious. "Look, Hermione, I know you don't like to be doing this for i_them/i_, but you didn't see him. It was the most pitiful thing I have ever seen." He looked away, uncomfortable. "Just—do it for me, please."

"And for whom do you think I've been doing it?" He looked at her sheepishly.

"So, tell me what you've got so far."

Hermione took some notes from her enlarged bag and spread them on the table. She sat back and looked at Harry from the top of her nose in the way she always used to explain something to him that she thought to be difficult.

"In the first few days, I searched the Ministry's registries about spells," she explained. Then, her expression shifted and it became a bit dreamy. "You have no idea about the things I learnt." He rolled his eyes at her exasperatedly. She got the hint and returned to the subject. "Well, anyway, there is no spell that creates the effects you described."

"What? Then how did he get like that? Are you absolutely sure?" Harry asked, confused.

"Yes, I'm sure," she replied. Harry bit his tongue; he should have known better than to question her. Hermione cleared her throat. "It's probably an unregistered spell."

"How is that possible? Ministry people don't forget things."

"Just now you sounded a lot like Ron, and it's not a compliment," the young woman deadpanned. "You know that people can create spells, right?" He flushed. Of course he knew that. Snape had created _Sectumsempra_ after all. Harry nodded.

The waiter arrived with their main course in that moment and they stopped talking. Hermione took a sip of her water and glanced up at him.

"Because of the nature of the spell, I would say that it's a Charm," she said and he looked up as well.

"Can't we _Finite Incantatem_ it then?" She just stared at him. Harry fidgeted. He had been joking. "Right—Voldemort would have thought of that."

"I think it's better if we manage a counter-spell on our own," she suggested, as if he hadn't interrupted her. "I did a bit of research on spell creation and it's the most complicated thing I have ever seen. I think I'll need your help, Harry."

"Of course. You just have to name it," he said.

"First, we need to identify the components of the spell." At his querying expression, she proceeded, "A spell is born from _incantation_, the words, _movement_, the wand and gesture, _intention_, which means what we want to happen."

"Okay, but Lucius' spell has done many things to him; it made him lost his memory, loose his sensibility towards his family and had his memory changed. I'd say that's a lot of intentions."

"Exactly!" she exclaimed animatedly. Oh, this was why she had missed Harry. He was one of the smartest people she had ever known – that was saying something – and the odd thing was that he didn't realise it. He was always willing to learn, which only made him smarter and more knowledgeable. It was so exciting talking to him.

"How do we come up with something against that?" He frowned as he thought about it.

"We create it." Oh, of course; it was easy to talk, and he told her exactly that. "Oh, come on, Harry, we discovered the Hallows _and_ the Horcruxes. Let's see it as a challenge."

Harry smiled at her. He was very glad to see her so excited about something; he was afraid that the recent lack of purpose in her life would eventually break her. Hermione needed challenges to be happy, and he was more than glad to indulge her. Nothing wrong would come out of it, anyway.

"Okay. Let's do it," he agreed, somewhat thrilled like he hadn't been in a while as well. Then, he wavered a little. "And how do we do it? We will probably be breaking laws, Hermione, and this isn't school anymore."

"Well, let's just come up with the theory, and then we can ask for Kingsley's permission. There is nothing wrong with research."

"Fine, I just don't want us to get into trouble and then have to use the hero thing to get us out of it."

"Of course, Harry. I don't want to have a criminal record to go with my curriculum," she protested, and he smiled. Of course she would be more worried about that than going to Azkaban. She still needed to get her priorities sorted. "So, I'll be looking for all the different consequences of the spell Voldemort put on Lucius and then I'll tell you what kind of spells could result in something like that. Both of us can take it from there, okay?"

"Yes . . . Are you sure you don't want my help with that?" She snorted.

"Yeah, right, reading big, dusty books—you love that!"

"Sarcasm doesn't go well with you, you know?" he told her matter-of-factly.

"Don't sulk, Harry." Harry tried to keep a straight face, but in the end he laughed with her.

When they finally calmed down, they had finished their meals, and were chatting animatedly. The conversation was lighter, mainly about how everyone else was doing. Hermione reported very accurately. After dessert, Harry noticed that she had been quiet for some time, while gazing at Harry thoughtfully.

"May I ask you something, Harry?" the young woman asked when she noticed that Harry was looking at her expectantly. He nodded. "Again, why do you care?"

He choked on his pumpkin juice. "Why do you keep asking me that?" She smirked at his reaction.

"Oh, no need to be nervous," she told him teasingly, but then, she got serious again. "Harry, during all these years, Malfoy tried to kill us, he humiliated us, he made fun of us and he was a Death Eater. I hate him and I know you did too. So, why do you care?"

Harry played with his glass, without looking at her. It was a good question. The problem was that he still didn't have an answer as to why he cared about the blond. Something had changed between them, yes, but he couldn't put his finger on it. So he did what he always did; he told her how he felt. Hermione could come up with the answer.

"I don't know, Hermione. I really don't." He looked up. "Ever since I saw him in Myrtle's bathroom, I felt like he could really use a friend, you know? He was always alone—and then he protected us during Easter . . . We've been talking lately, and he really is the spoiled git we thought he was, but he is nice and sensitive and he cares so much about his family." He swallowed hard and tried to ignore Hermione's sympathetic expression; like she knew something he didn't, and felt sorry for him. "Someone who loves like that can't be evil. He just got into something without thinking properly about it and then, when he realised what he had got himself into, it was too late."

"That doesn't excuse him."

"Of course not!" Harry snapped. "I know that. I would never excuse him for anything he did, but Ron and I have done some pretty awful things to him too as well." He tried to get her to understand. "I don't want to hate anyone anymore, especially not him. We are so alike, we get along so well, and he's so funny. Really. I think I really want to be his friend . . ."

"Okay, Harry." She decided to let the subject rest for now, although she would come back to it at first opportunity.

Hermione smiled sadly at the thought. When Harry realised that he was falling in love, he would freak out, and then he would suffer. After all, he was falling for a boy; that with being a boy himself could be a problem and, as if that wasn't enough, he was falling for a Malfoy. Ron would lose it too and that was what scared her the most. She hoped their friendship would survive or else she wouldn't know which side to take. Or better yet, she would, but she wouldn't like the answer.

The brunette held Harry's hand.

"Hey, now that you two have enjoyed this lovely moment of bonding, would you tell me what's going on?" Hermione and Harry's heads snapped at Ron, but they didn't let go of each other's hands; there was no need to. The redhead was grinning. Harry got up and hugged him, and then Ron sat down between him and Hermione and gave the girl a peck on the cheek.

"So, mate, where have you been?" Seeing the other two tense, he sighed. "Okay, let's try again. What have you two been doing?" They tensed again. Ron frowned and looked upset.

"Ron—" Harry started, but Ron didn't let him speak.

"Look, mate, I'm going to say this." He took a deep breath. "Hermione tells me that since I left you two in the forest, you don't know how to trust me again. I understand. I got that you two are closer now." He looked away. "But I want to change that. I told you that I wouldn't leave you, didn't I? You can tell me everything and I would respect that, honest. I won't push, but—"

"Ron," Harry interrupted amused. It was not often that Ron would voice his feelings. Blokes didn't do that, now did they? "I'm pretty sure that if I told you, you would scream, scram and then scream some more via owl. So, let's just let this be—"

"Okay, mate, if you say so."

The waiter came by and Hermione asked for the bill, while kicking Harry under the table and then facing him with a look that said 'you talk to him'. Harry sighed. Things were going to get ugly, but that was okay; he wanted to trust Ron again. He would risk how many disappointments it took, because he knew that Ron was worthy of his friendship, and he always – _always_– came around.

"Okay, Ron, I'll tell you." The freckled face lit up. Hermione and Harry laughed, but it wasn't a very honest laugh. Harry took a deep breath. "I'vebeenstayingattheMalfoyManor."

Unfortunately, Ron was an expert in understanding Harry's nervous language, so there was no way he could have missed that. He swallowed. He took a deep breath. His eyes gained focus again. And then all hell broke loose.

"_What?_" he hissed, breathlessly.

"Ron, please cam down," Hermione said, while rubbing his back and checking his pulse. The boy was too red to be healthy.

"You—you're telling me that you've been staying with _Malfoy_?"

Harry nodded. He'd expected to have been hexed by now, so Ron's reaction was actually reassuring. The redhead took several deep breaths, before facing Harry again. He couldn't even look Harry in the eyes.

"Look, mate." Okay, calling Harry mate was good. "I'll keep my word—but I need to go. Now." Harry's heart fell. "We'll let Hermione explain this to me later and then we'll talk. If I stay, I'll say things I don't mean. I'm sorry I stayed for so little time. I won't be seeing you for a while." And with that he got up, walked out of the restaurant and Apparated away.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and burst out laughing, a bit hysterically. The waiter put the small piece of paper on the table, giving them odd looks. They couldn't care less.

"He actually—ha—said sorry for leaving," Hermione was saying, while catching her breath. "I'm so proud of him."

"You should be. Hell, I'm proud of him!" Harry said, still laughing. He pulled his wallet and paid for the meal, stopping Hermione from doing so. Then some sort of sadness washed over him. "He's still mad at me. He said he wouldn't speak to me for a while."

"It's okay, Harry; he reacted better this time. A whole hell of a lot better." That managed to wring a smile from Harry. He was still sad. He shook his head, trying to get rid of depressing thoughts about Ron.

"Ha, will you come with me to St. Mungo's get my glasses?" he ended up asking.

"Yes, of course. Maybe we could visit Lockhart afterwards, you know, for Ron's sake." And they laughed.

_

* * *

_

By the time Harry Flooed to the Malfoy Manor, it was late evening, almost dinner time.

He was still a little shaken. Ron had seemed disappointed, really disappointed. The Malfoys had been responsible for a lot of bad things that had happened to his family. Harry could understand that. Even so, Ron's will not to lash out at Harry had been something else. He really had great friends, and Ron had exceeded his expectations.

He entered his room. He hadn't seen Narcissa or Draco since he arrived, so he decided to freshen up first. He looked himself in the mirror. These new glasses looked really good on him, he was glad he had chosen them. They were wire rimmed and circular shaped. As if he would wear anything else.

As he exited the bathroom, dressed in a clean jumper, Draco burst in without knocking, and froze looking at Harry.

"Why, Potter, new glasses?" Harry blushed.

"Yes, I went to get them today. I ordered them two weeks ago." Draco smiled at the younger teen's reaction, as he moved inside and sat down on the bed, watching Harry brush his hair, which was quite a useless task.

"Oh, they look good on you." Harry grinned, but his blush brightened. "So, how was the day of the Golden Trio?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he cursed them. Unexpected things they were, exiting his mouth without his consent. It was not like he cared how Harry spent his days. They didn't have to be together all the time. He wasn't curious or interested in the least, but he was polite, so he was making his guest feel cared for—right?

However, when Harry's eyes fell, he was glad he had asked. He quickly forgot his illusion about polite conversation and approached Harry in the mirror. He stood behind the Gryffindor and their reflected eyes met.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." Draco quirked an eyebrow.

"Really, Harry? Do you think I'm stupid? Just tell me and save us both the time it would take for me to pry it out from you . . ." Harry sighed and broke their locked gazes.

"I told Ron where I was staying."

Draco's expression hardened, his posture became tenser and, before his eyes, Harry saw Draco become the Malfoy he'd hated for so many years. He never realised that Draco had changed his behaviour until he saw him retreat to his old self.

"What do you care anyway? He's just a bloody Weasel, too stupid to even—"

"Don't do that," Harry interrupted, his eyes flashing. He couldn't tell, but his posture also changed, his anger was emanating freely from his body.

They faced each other and, for moments, they were back on the sixth year and they were enemies. They held each other's gaze. Finally, Draco broke; he sighed.

"I shouldn't have said that." It was not an apology, Harry noticed.

"That doesn't mean you're sorry, Malfoy."

Draco looked away, unable to face Harry's earnest gaze. What he did next would determine their relationship. Draco knew that if he wanted to count himself among Harry's friends, he would have to accept and apologise to all of them. He didn't like them, but mostly because he never tried to. He hated them just because they were Harry's friends. Was it worth it to change that? For Harry?

"I'm sorry. I'll try to be nicer to your friends." Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't meant for the blond to go that far, but okay; he would take it.

"Thank you." And he meant every single letter that formed those two words.

They stared at each other. Draco put a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed. It was as far as he would go for now. The atmosphere was still tight.

"Mother must be waiting for dinner." Harry just nodded, suddenly unable to speak properly.

Narcissa was already waiting for them at the top of the table. Harry sat on her left and Draco on her right. "Those new glasses look wonderful on you, Harry," she started the conversation, finding the boys' tense silence just slightly vexing. They must have had their first fight. How cute.

"Thank you, Narcissa."

"Don't you think so, Draco?" The blond didn't look up.

"Yes, Mother." She mentally grimaced at her brood's inability to cooperate with her politeness. Outside, she smiled and took a sip of her soup.

Harry cleared his throat.

"Hum, I was with a friend of mine today," he began, and had Narcissa's immediate attention. "She found something about curse breaking that ought to interest you." He was careful not to mention Lucius.

"Oh?" Was Narcissa's response, hinting at him to continue. There was something that caught her attention, though. "Could this friend be the lovely Ms. Hermione Granger?"

Harry's expression softened and his eyes brightened up. His face broke into a tender smile. Draco didn't like it.

"Yes. She's the smartest girl I know; she has already made so much progress," he stated excitedly. "She really believes this is the right thing to do and she'll give it her best. And her best it's all we need, I can assure you."

"I believe you, Harry," Narcissa said, somewhat moved that a young woman—almost a child—who had suffered so much at the hands of her family was willing to help them. "All of your friends are admirable people, my dear. You are a lucky boy." Harry smiled his brightest smile.

"I am lucky. I've noticed that myself, and I appreciate it."

"I find it hard to believe that Miss Granger would go as far for you as to help the people who torture and humiliated her." The hint of guilt in her voice was clear.

"Don't worry about it, Narcissa, please," the raven-haired teen asked, smiling gently. "Hermione is tough and it takes a lot to break her. She is amazing."

"Oh, yeah? Well, if you like Granger so much, why are you sitting here with us?"

Narcissa nearly choked on her white wine. However, since she was a lady, nobody noticed. Her son hadn't just said that! Although, judging by Harry's anger and hurt expression, she had to accept the fact that yes, he had said that. She narrowed her eyes at him and Draco found himself pierced by blue orbs. This time, he couldn't hold her gaze. None of them spoke for a while. They were finishing the main course when suddenly an owl broke through the room carrying a red letter.

A Howler.

Harry paled visibly.

"You should open that, dear," Narcissa advised coldly. She couldn't believe that such an inelegant thing like a Howler had entered her house. It could only come from the Weasleys.

Harry did as he was told.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER! What were you thinking, hiding things from US?" Harry closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the sound of Ginny's voice. "Have We ever GIVEN you reasons to mistrust us? Have we? Except for Ron that is, but he is sorry for that."

Draco snorted. The Howler turned to him and he froze in shock. The voice changed from Ginny's to Mrs. Weasley's, which spoke gently enough.

"How are you, Mr. Malfoy? I hope you and Harry are getting along. He usually doesn't lie—" Harry could have sworn that the parchment had glared at him. Draco was yet to move. The Howler turned to Narcissa. "Mrs. Malfoy, thank you for taking care of Harry, I hope he hasn't been giving you trouble. I would be glad to receive you and your lovely son for tea as appreciation for your care. Please, let us arrange the meeting."

Once again, the evil thing eyed Harry.

"And you, young man, although I understand why you haven't told us, be sure that we will be talking about how family members support each other."

The envelope erupted into flames, and Harry finally breathed

By now, Narcissa was highly amused. She had heard stories about Mrs. Weasley's Howlers since her son's second year, but she had never expected them to actually be entertaining. Molly Weasley was willing to yell her love at a boy who was nothing to her. The woman sure was admirable.

"I'm so sorry, Narcissa," Harry breathed, ashamed due to the incident. Narcissa dismissed his apology and smiled at him.

"She has an outstanding lung capacity, and she reaches extraordinary frequencies. Her daughter, too. I'm sure both of them could have been wonderful singers if properly nurtured," the pureblood woman teased. Harry laughed, before a shadow settled on his eyes as he glanced over at Draco. Narcissa sobered and shook her head in disapproval.

The rest of the night went by in silence.

* * *

TBC


	6. Hogwarts' Letter

**Hogwarts' Letter**

By Dani-ko  
Beta'd by MrsHellman and Tavia_d

* * *

Narcissa was sitting in her drawing room, reading the most interesting book, when someone knocked on the door. She gave her permission, and her guest made his way to the sofa in front of her.

"Harry, dear, is there something wrong?" The boy was angry, sad and determined, all at once.

"Draco is still asleep," he started, "and I was thinking that maybe I should go back home . . ." He let the rest of his explanation hang in the air. The Malfoy matriarch put her book aside and faced Harry with a serious look on her face.

"Are you not feeling comfortable in here, dear?"

"What? No. Of course I am!" was his immediate response. He blushed as he processed his outburst. "I just thought that maybe I'm being a nuisance." She sighed.

"Is this about what my incorrigible son said last night?"

"No, of course n—well, okay, it is. But it made me realise that I might be taking advantage of your hospitality." Narcissa laughed whole-heartedly, leaving a confused Harry staring at her.

"Oh, my dear, you couldn't take advantage of anyone even if you tried," she pointed out, and added for good measure, "You are a wonderful guest and I could not be more pleased to have you in my house. I know my son feels the same way. Don't go anywhere before giving him a chance to apologise."

"I was thinking about leaving after lunch . . ." Harry tried.

"Oh, please, don't. Have a conversation with Draco first, yes?"

"Okay, Narcissa, I will."

"Good." She felt relief wash over her. "Now, I would advise you to have a very nutritional breakfast before my son comes to you, and I can assure you that he will." The way she phrased it gave the impression that Draco would come and apologise to Harry of his own free will.

Narcissa called Ivy, the house-elf, and ordered breakfast; she drank tea, while Harry ate his toasts and eggs. She kept telling him how spoiled Draco was and that he wasn't used to share. Harry didn't understand her point, but, by the end of the meal, he was feeling much better about the whole situation.

Harry was not mistaken because. As soon as he returned to his quarters, Narcissa dashed through the house and only stopped in front of her son's door.

Without any concern for propriety, she walked in and pulled the curtains open, letting the light strike the sleeping young man in the face. Said boy whimpered and turned around, only to have the alarm clock start ringing loudly in his ears with just a flick of his mother's wand. He sat up and glared around until he saw his mother standing near his bed, her hands on her hips, looking positively frightening.

"Mother?"

"Yes, dear, very good." Her voice dripped sarcasm. She was mad at him, he could tell that much. "Now, let's see if you get this one right. If a spoiled brat told you that you should be somewhere else, what would you think?"

"What?" His mind was trying to catch up with his newly awakened state.

"Harry wants to leave, Draco!" That woke him up.

"What? Why!"

"Really, dear, you used to be smarter . . ." Moments later – after a good, persuasive and somewhat threatening lecture from his mother – Draco was showered and dressed in fresh clothes, and was waiting for Harry's permission to enter his rooms.

"Yes?" came the muffled voice from the inside. Draco fidgeted as he opened the door.

"Potter?" he called softly.

Harry was sitting on the veranda, writing some sort of letter, probably for Molly Weasley. The Gryffindor looked up coolly and averted his gaze immediately. Draco approached him and sat down in the chair in front of Harry's. The blond didn't think that what he had said was that reproachful, but apparently, Harry thought so. So, he would apologise.

"Malfoy." It was Harry who spoke first, startling the other teen. "I think I should return to London. I had a really good time here, but—"

"No, you shouldn't." Draco's mind stopped at the 'should return'. "I was jealous of Granger last night; I shouldn't have said that, and I don't want you to leave," he finished firmly.

Harry seemed to be looking for the truth of his words in his eyes, and then he sighed."Are you sure? I've been imposing on you long enough."

"Of course you haven't, stupid!" the blond snapped.

"Don't call me names; you were the one who said stupid things."

"I know that, and I'm sorry, but I don't want you to go." Finally, an apology. Harry grinned.

"Okay, then, if you are sure."

"I am." Draco was, but he still had some things bothering him, and Harry noticed that, if his fidgeting was of any indication.

"Yes?" Harry drawled playfully. Draco looked up startled from his thoughts and took a deep breath.

"I'm probably going to lash out a lot more times," he warned. "I get jealous frequently."

"So I've noticed. I just didn't expect to be the cause of it."

"Yes—well—your friends probably don't do that." He hated the insecurity that laced his words.

"You'd be surprised. Especially Ron . . ." Harry said with a laugh; then, he got serious. "But they're worth it."

"And I?" asked Draco, hopefully.

Harry looked away into the horizon. "Getting there." It was all he said, and Draco didn't need more. They sat in silence for a while, Harry looking at the sky where it met the forest, and Draco looking at Harry. That was until the blond's stomach rumbled loudly. The teens laughed, the mood finally lighter.

"I guess you're hungry, then," Harry teased. Draco blushed profusely.

"I guess so, but the house-elf is probably cleaning the house, or is out grocery shopping, or whatever they do, so I'll just wait for lunch."

Harry frowned. "Why don't you go and make something yourself?"

"Excuse me?" was Draco scandalized retort. "I will not do such thing!"

Harry laughed. "Are you telling me that you don't know how to cook?"

"Of course I don't know how to cook; I'm not a house-elf."

The raven-haired boy rolled his eyes. "Come on, then, I'll make you something."

"What? You cook?" Draco was genuinely surprised. Suddenly something occurred to him and he asked quietly. "Are you a long forgotten species of a house-elf?"

Harry's shocked expression was soon replaced by an annoyed one. "You are so stupid." It was Draco's turn to glare. "Do you want to eat or not?"

Deciding for once that starving was worse than give up his pride, Draco blushed and nodded. "Good," Harry exclaimed, satisfied. "Come along then." Harry skipped to the kitchen with Draco in tow.

The kitchen was on the first floor, in one of the farthest corner in the house. It was a magnificent division, fully equipped. Even though there weren't any Muggle devices, there were several small divisions under different spells that would preserve food, cook it and store different utensils. With a quick search through the cabinets and pantries, Harry got familiar with the space.

Draco sat down onto one of the chairs in front of the high counter, waiting to be served; as always, you may add.

Harry snatched a fry pan and a couple of eggs and milk and quickly did some scrambled eggs. For good measure, he put some salt and spices in it, just the way he liked it. He just hoped that Draco did too. As he waited for the eggs to cool a bit, he did some toasts and used the pumpkin jam he found in one of the pantries. He put it all on a plate and placed it in front of Draco, with orange juice and coffee.

"There you go."

The blond was looking at him mesmerized. He kept glancing between Harry, the oven and the plate in front of him. Fearfully, he took a bite of eggs. The reaction was immediate; Draco's eyes shone, and he dug in. Harry chuckled happily.

"This is friggin' amazing," the blond exclaimed, nipping his toast.

"Language, sweetheart," admonished an amused Narcissa from the doorway. She walked in and sat herself besides Draco. "So, Harry, dear, what are you doing?"

"Draco was hungry, so we came down here to do something," the raven-haired boy explained, blushing and hoping that Narcissa wouldn't think less of him as she found out that he had used her kitchen.

"It looks good. Can I have a taste, sweetie?" the blonde woman asked her blond son.

"Mother!" Draco whined. "Harry did this for me; you certainly can _not_ have a taste!" It was his reply. Harry gaped at him, shocked at such behaviour.

"Malfoy!" He then turned to Narcissa. "If you want I can make some for you," he suggested. She smiled.

"Oh, no that's okay, Harry. I'm not even hungry. I'm just disappointed to see how possessive my child is," she said, but her eyes held no negative emotions, only amusement. Sighing in defeat, Draco pushed his plate in his mother's direction. Narcissa smirked. "Oh, thank you, dear." She took a bite, and her eyes widened slightly. "This tastes wonderful, Harry. Honestly."

Regardless to say that by the time the house-elf Ivy returned to the kitchen Harry had experienced an ego boost regarding his cooking skills.

* * *

During the next week, Harry's routine in the Malfoy Manor was once again restored. Only at the time, he experienced long periods of reflection. The summer holidays were about to end, and he wasn't sure what he would do next. He didn't even know if Hogwarts would open, really.

He reasoned that he ought to begin thinking about his future, but between playing Quidditch with Draco, keeping Narcissa company, helping Hermione with her research and visiting the Burrow – that or receiving daily Howlers – Harry found it easy to forget about what he ought to be doing. However, besides all of that, his visits to the Burrow were somewhat concerning him. Before he left for the summer, the Weasleys seemed to be grieving, but healing; he wasn't so sure, though.

It appeared to him that perhaps their pain had been numb until their minds finally caught up with what happened. Between celebrating the end of the war, they had buried their grief until it finally surfaced again. There was nothing conspicuous that made him come to that conclusion, but something in the way the Weasleys acted gave an idea of surrealism, as if they were living in a world of their own.

In the aftermath of the war, the family had been torn, but eventually had accepted their tragedy and began celebrating with the rest of the world. With absolutely no wish to party Harry had been driven away, so maybe he had missed their true grief. Looking at them, he had to wonder how much of their acceptance had been real. If he put his mind up to it, during Harry's birthday party they had seemed kind of detached from one another, but Harry had blamed that on his sudden departure.

Arthur kept busying himself in his garage with some weird constructions; it seemed that he had been doing that since the end of the war. Molly was jolly all the time, but Harry had noticed the few times her eyes lost focus and she appeared to be lost in her musings. Ron was acting strangely, as if he needed to prove Harry that he was worth of his friendship. Ginny was much too clingy, but in her need to bring people close, she made Harry understand, and he worried about her less.

The first thing he had done was talk to Hermione, of course. She had just shook her head and told him that things were worse than he thought, but it was up to the Weasleys to solve it on their own, or else their strength would never be restored. Harry hadn't been convinced, but quite frankly, he decided that he had a more pressing business to worry about, and when they decide to ask for his help he would grant them it. He didn't realise it, but he was just miffed that things couldn't be okay for once. Somewhere along the line, he had grown used to the Malfoys' problem free environment; of course, if he had been thinking objectively, he would have thought that that same _problem free environment_ could not be healthy, especially if things are not okay, as it turned out to happen. Since he didn't realised that, he just shrugged the problem off for the time being, namely during his breakfast with Draco and Narcissa.

Suddenly, a rush of wings was heard, and Odin and Eltanin, Draco's owls, entered the room carrying two big letters with the Hogwarts symbol on them. Both boys got very excited at once. They took the letters, and each one settled to read their correspondence.

Harry knew that the reason why it hadn't been Hogwarts owls to bring the letters was because of the Manor wards. Therefore, the letters would be left in the Owlery, and then the house-owls would do their job.

Darting a quick glance over the parchment, Harry realised that he had been made Quidditch captain, again. He grinned. That was the title he craved the most. There was the list of the books, and in the end a message from the Headmistress regarding the new year's logistics. Since no one had managed to learn much in the previous year, all of the students would repeat their classes; otherwise, the rules were the same. Except for the first years that would have a much bigger class.

He looked up to see Draco gazing dumbly at a badge in his hand. It was somehow different from the Quidditch Captain badge and the perfect badge when he thought about it, so Harry leaned in to see what was happening.

Narcissa was watching both of them proudly, behind her mug of tea.

"Hey, Malfoy, what's wrong?" Harry asked. He blond looked at him as if he hadn't heard the question properly. "Malfoy?" the raven-haired boy asked warily.

"I've been nominated Head Boy . . ." he answered weakly. Harry grinned brightly.

"Congratulations!" Harry exclaimed. "I bet Hermione is the Head Girl," he mused, returning to his letter, but, then, he noticed the lost look in Draco's eyes. "Being Head Boy is a good thing, right?" he asked frowning.

"Yes, but let's not forget that I won't be the most prized student this year."

"That's rubbish." Harry dismissed, waving his hand. "What has happened, has happened. Everyone is starting over, and everyone knows that you are a great student."

"Harry is right, Draco," Narcissa intervened, somewhat surprised and incredibly proud of Harry's reaction. Draco sighed, apparently convinced and very happy of Harry's words. He smiled.

"Since I entered Hogwarts, I've wanted to be Head Boy," he said.

"That and take lots of points from me I imagine."

"Yes, that too." the blond conceded, smiling more brightly.

Narcissa cleared her throat. She was deeply thankful for Harry restoring her child's confidence; in spite of everything, Harry was really good for Draco, and she couldn't be happier with their friendship.

"Well, I guess this requires a celebration," she said. Harry seemed uncomfortable. "Is there anything wrong, dear?"

The raven-haired boy fidgeted some more. "I don't know if I'm going to return," he held quietly. Draco paled. Narcissa smiled sympathetically.

"Potter," the blond called warningly.

"I mean, right now, I couldn't care less about my _magical education_," he all but spit the last two words. It reminded him too much of Dumbledore and his puppet show. "There is so much I could do, right now. Shacklebolt even offered me a position in the Auror department, so there's really no need for me to come back."

"Harry, dear, you should think about this carefully," Narcissa advised.

"Yeah, I know, but it jut wouldn't feel the same." Judging by his tone, both blondes understood that there was no point in talking further about that right then.

The rest of the breakfast was spent in silence, except for the sound of cutlery colliding violently with the plate, while Draco stabbed his breakfast. Harry knew that was about him, but he couldn't find it in him to solve the issue right then. In fact, the actuality that Draco hadn't lashed out yet was making him very glad. He found it rather amusing that Draco and Ron had that in common. They were quick to get angry and spout nonsense that had nothing to do with the true reason they got mad in the first place . . . stupid spoiled boys . . .

He returned to his room after the meal and sat down in his favourite place on the veranda, deciding on giving that some thought.

Well, he really didn't want to go back, not only for the reasons he had told Narcissa, but also because the place that was once his home, held so many dreadful memories. He didn't think he could look at the fields of Hogwarts without seeing the blood covered battle pitch. It had been such a short time ago, and remembering all the people who died for him in that same fields made him feel horrible.

What would be Hogwarts like anyway, without Colin Creevy fleeting around, or Fred to annoy him during the holidays, or Snape to curse him for every breath he took during Potions? It just wouldn't be the same, and he would most likely see them at every turn and, that was not very healthy. If that wasn't enough to dissuade him, what about the hordes of fans that would undoubtedly be waiting for him? He shuddered at the mere thought.

On another hand, it would be lovely to have a year in that amazing place without having to worry about Voldemort and just have fun like a normal person.

Harry was getting very confused, and Draco's behaviour wasn't helping in the slightest.

Of course, he should have known that it would be too good to get away with only an angry Draco; it was Harry's only thought when a fuming letter fell into his lap, written by none other than Hermione Granger.

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm guessing you have received the letter from Hogwarts as well, right? I'm so excited. I can barely hope to have a year at Hogwarts without having to worry about anything else other than my homework . . . you're probably rolling your eyes now, so stop it!_

_Which brings us to the main subject: __STOP IT! You are going to return to Hogwarts, and that's final! Your magical education is very important if you ever expect to succeed as an Auror. I am aware that you think right now it's not a priority, but things have to get back to normal, and you can't let what happened before dictate your future. Voldemort should not rule over your life after his death, okay?_

_I also understand that Hogwarts holds a lot of bad memories to you, but it also holds good ones. I thi__nk we should honour our deceased by taking the best we could of what life offers us. Dumbledore would have wanted you to be happy at Hogwarts. He did his best for you; Snape did his best to protect you, too. At least you owe him an E on your Potions NEWT._

_Besides, imagine how many fans you're going to have there. You're so lucky! Now, you're probably thinking about hexing me. I was just joking. I will protect you. You know why? Because I'm Head Girl!_

_I'm so excited, so proud and so happy. I want to be just a student so much__, and I need you, my fellow student, to be there with me. So, think about it, okay? Say something when you decide . . . _

_Love,_

_Hermione_

As soon as he finished reading, laughter took over him.

Honestly, could the girl know him any better? That was so her style and he felt his heart warm up. She was trying so much – _too much_ – Harry felt bad for crumbling so often. Hermione was giving her best to move on with her life, but she still found time to lecture and champion him like in the old days. Maybe he should try his best for her, too.

He lost himself in planning the future before he knew it.

However his peace didn't last long, because a fuming blond barked into the room without permission, banging the door closed. He strode to the veranda and faced Harry with his full height.

"I can't believe you are not going back to Hogwarts, _Potter_," he spit the last word like he had done so many times before and without knowing why, Harry felt like a stone had been dropped on his stomach.

"What I do is my business!" he attacked on instinct.

"Of course, I should have known that you would think about yourself above school," he sneered. "Always striding through the hallways as if you were better than all of us, ignoring people and acting as if they didn't exist . . ." he seemed to be talking to himself then. Still, that jab hurt.

"I do not think of myself above anyone, Malfoy," he hissed. "Do you have any idea what that school reminds me of? There's nothing good there anymore!"

"And yet, you are willing to let me go there alone," Draco threw back. "Some friend you are."

They froze staring at each other as soon as Draco found enough wits to snap his mouth shut, but the damage was done.

"You don't want to go back alone," Harry stated. Draco blushed a little, but lifted his chin defiantly.

"What of it?"

Harry averted his gaze for a moment and allowed himself to flush at Draco's mention of their friendship; after all, it was not often that he said something like that. Then, he grinned and faced the blond; he sighed in mock defeat and simply handed Hermione's letter to the blond. Draco read it quickly, and then turned to Harry with a smirk.

"I guess Granger beat me up to it, then," he said. "I'm glad she is this persuasive."

Harry grinned back. "Yeah, I agree."

They just stared at each other, grinning slightly. Until their minds caught up with their bodies and they realised they were acting stupid. Draco looked away and cleared his throat.

"Molly Weasley sent a letter inviting the two of us to spend the weekend in her house and do the shopping at Diagon Alley," he informed. "Mother says it's okay, and that she'll meet us on Saturday."

"Oh, that's cool."

"No, it's not," the blond answered immediately, a little panicked at the idea of spending two days with the red-headed horde. "I do _not_ intent to spend more time than necessary in Weasleys' company."

"Oh, yeah . . . right."

Draco regretted his words the minute he saw Harry's eyes darken. He sighed. He should have known from the start that the newfound friendship would be a handful of trouble. For Merlin's sake, the boy should come with instructions.

"Unless you want to, then it's fine by me," he murmured, guiltily, and praying for the sake of his mental health. Harry's face lit up like a Christmas tree, and suddenly, spending a weekend with the Weasleys was more than okay.

"Really?" Harry asked. Draco nodded. "Thank you, I really appreciate it!"

"Then you have to let me win today's Quidditch game," he joked, and Harry smiled.

"Anything."

The raven-haired boy left the room to go get his broom. Smacking himself for the innuendo he gave that word; Draco cursed teenagers' hormones and followed Harry through the house.

_Harry looked around. No one was there. He heard crying. Looking around__ again, he saw the maimed creature from King's Cross. Where was he? It was the Shrieking Shack. The creature kept crying, and, finally taking pity on it, he approached its spot on the floor._

_Out of nowhere, tentacles erupted and trapped him, bringing him __into the most complete darkness. He tried to fight, but he couldn't, and then he saw himself, hovering above his perspective, and he realised that he was the creature and that he was the one trapped. He trashed trying to get free, but he couldn't, he couldn't . . . _

"Harry!"

He was brought back to consciousness, still trashing and screaming on the bed. Two strong arms held him close to a broad chest; the familiarity of the body did very little for his nervousness, though.

"Harry, calm down. Please."

Finally, Harry realised that it was Draco who was holding him. Without much thought, he encircled the other's neck with his arms and buried his face in the crook of Draco's neck, and let himself be held until the tremors stopped. Draco put a cold cloth against his forehead, a let Harry calm down. He cleaned the sweat drops away, but his hold never loosened.

"I thought I had put a Silence Charm on the room," the raven-haired boy said weakly.

"You did, but I'm the Lord of this house, so it has no effect against me."

Harry nodded his understanding and loosened his grip on the blond.

Deeming Harry well enough, Draco helped him lay down on his back and adjusted the pillows under the black hair, and the blankets. Oh, how he wanted to lie down too and take the other boy in his arms and assure him that everything his okay. It's awful to be alone after a bad dream . . . Harry's eyes were still darting around the room, as if afraid that his nightmare would become real. Draco held the hand that was on top of the blankets.

"It's okay, Harry. It was just a bad dream," he said reassuringly.

"I know," Harry said, even though his tone gave away his fear.

Sighing in defeat, and 'not-so-angry-about-the-whole-ordeal', Draco laid himself next to Harry over the covers; he turned to lie on his side and threw an arm over Harry's middle. Unconsciously, or not, Harry snuggled closer to the other body.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Harry swallowed and shook his head. "It would be better if you did, sometimes it feels better to get it off your chest . . . " Draco tried again.

Harry closed his eyes, only to snap them open again. Whatever he saw in the darkness seemed to make up his mind.

"It was Voldemort," he told Draco. "Do you know what Horcruxes are?"

"No."

And then Harry set to explain. He didn't mention what Voldemort's Horcruxes had been or that he had been hunting them – Draco was not stupid, he would figure that out soon enough – but Harry told him about how Voldemort's soul was trapped forever. He could see Draco pale, and his hold on Harry tighten.

"That's what I was dreaming about. It's an awful fate, but I warned him in the end." Harry sounded almost guilty, but he shouldn't. It was a terrible fate, yes, but Voldemort had written his own destiny with his hideous crimes. "I dreamt that he fooled me into exchanging places." At the end, his voice was only a murmur.

"Harry, it's his own fault. You saved us all."

Harry's closed his eyes tiredly. "I know . . . I _know_ that," he said quietly. "But I can't help it."

"I understand. I know it's awful." For a few moments, Draco was assaulted with visions of torture, murder, rape. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "That man was not human." Even to his own hears, his voice sounded too bitter.

"What do you mean?" Harry said with a shudder.

"Let's just say that he was always on his best for the Malfoys, which is not a good thing."

Harry looked at him expectantly. "Do you want to tell me about it?" he ended up asking, using purposefully Draco's words when he saw that Draco wasn't budging.

"Let's talk about it some other time, okay?" the blond asked, slightly amused by Harry's way of convincing him to talk, even if his smirk never reached his cold eyes.

It was obvious that the memories were still fresh and that it still hurt. Even though, rationally, Harry could see that it was better if he talked, he also knew that it was a very difficult thing to do, so he would not push.

"Yeah, sure."

Neither boy could find it in themselves to leave then. That incident had brought up some bitter memories that left both of them felling a bit agitated.

"Draco," the raven-haired boy called, after a while of basking in the peaceful silence.

"Hmm?"

"Could you stay the night?"

"Yes."

"Thank you."

Harry shifted and let Draco pull the cover and make himself comfortable next to Harry. When the rush of the nightmare had passed, both of them were feeling a bit awkward. Draco turned his back on Harry, unable to look at the boy when he was vulnerable, mainly because he wasn't sure if he could control his impulses. Harry let him and stared at the ceiling.

After a few moments, the blond's breath evened out and his body relaxed completely. Reasoning that Draco was already asleep, and being unable to stop himself, Harry approached the other and, clutching to the back of Draco's pyjama's shirt, he snuggled against the blond's back, burying his face against the fabric.

"Harry?"

Damn, he wasn't asleep after all. Blushing bright red, Harry jumped away as if he had been burned.

"Sorry," he apologised frantically.

Draco said nothing, but shifted, lying on his back, and nudge Harry to move closer. The raven-haired boy tucked his head under the blond's shin and encircled his waist. Draco brought his hand to Harry's head and caressed the soft locks tenderly, while the other held the smaller body tightly.

"This is what my mother used to do when I was little," the blond said.

"It feels good."

"She always was a smart woman." They sniggered and fell asleep shortly after.

* * *

TBC


	7. Diagon Alley

**Diagon-Alley**

By Dani-ko  
Beta'd by MrsHellman and Tavia_d

* * *

It was finally Saturday of the Weasley Weekend, as Draco had so kindly baptized it.

Even though it was very early in the morning, Harry was already fidgeting and was too nervous to even stay still. Well, to his credit, it wasn't often that people like the Weasleys and the Malfoys socialized, and, although both Draco and Narcissa were finding his antics very amusing, the blond was feeling the rush of trepidation wash over him.

The three inhabitants of Malfoy Manor were standing in the garden, waiting for the portkey to be activated. At such ungodly hour, Harry was pretty sure that all the Weasley children would still be asleep, and both Draco and he were infinitely grateful for that.

Finally the time had come. They bid Narcissa good-bye with polite nods and graceful hand-shakes – as it is very appropriate for classy people like the Malfoys, even though Harry was pretty sure that he hadn't been remarkably polite, graceful or classy – and approached the gnome in the lawn.

They arrived at the Burrow moments later, after the uncomfortable sensation of being pulled by their gravity centres. Draco, of course, landed as gracefully as he did everything else . . . Harry fell on his arse.

"You have the delicacy of a troll, Potter," the blond sneered, while extending a slender hand towards Harry to help him up.

"Shut it," Harry retorted, but accepted the help.

Their hold extended itself longer than necessary, but neither boy gave that much thought. Ever since Draco had comforted Harry after his nightmare, something between them had changed; it was very subtle, but it was still there. Not that the morning after hadn't been terrible awkward, because Merlin knows it was _very_ awkward. Their gazes and touches always lingered as if they were trying to lengthen their small connections, since neither had the courage to actually initiate physical contact.

They were still holding hands when Molly Weasley exited the house and walked to them, intending on a full Weasley greeting. Quickly letting go of the blond's hand, Harry wondered if Draco was ready for that, since his slightly paler complexion _could be_ a sign that he wasn't.

"Boys!" she exclaimed and pulled Harry to her arms. Her hug was tight and had a desperate streak to it. "How are you, Harry, dear?" Draco had to choke back a snort at Mrs. Weasley's endearment being the same as his mother. Harry noticed and glared at him over her ginger head. "I hope you haven't given any trouble to Mrs. Malfoy."

"I can assure you that he hasn't, Mrs. Weasley," Draco put in in a cold tone that Harry had learned to recognise as a sign of hidden emotions – maybe insecurity?

"Draco, sweetie, welcome."

Molly looked at the blond. Harry frowned. Oddly, he couldn't quite grasp what Mrs. Weasley was thinking from her behaviour. He reasoned that she was probably struggling to accept the boy, who actually meant something to Harry, considering all the things he had done and whom he looked like – and if Draco was anything it wasn't his father's son. Harry expected a bit of coldness and maybe some resentment, and he knew that Draco was prepared for it too.

However, she did none of it. She pulled him into a hug as well.

Draco tensed and stood stiff during her embrace even if he ended up patting her gently on the shoulder. Harry smiled warmly at him.

Draco scowled. Harry surely must have noticed that it was not normal someone accept a Death Eater that fast as much as your own child begged you to. Mrs. Weasley was obviously in denial, if the fact that she never addressed him by his surname – as she should certainly have done as the pureblood that she was – was any indication. In fact, she never looked either of them in the eyes.

Harry was too close to see, but Molly Weasley was far from being alright.

She led them to the house, holding the door for them.

"I'm almost done with breakfast. You can have a seat, Draco, while Harry helps me set the table," she suggested, busying herself in front of the oven. Harry did as he was told, happily, searching the cabinets and using his wand to levitate the plates to the table.

"You know, Malfoy, you could help instead of sitting there," Harry suggested, even if he knew it was wishful thinking. Draco smirked.

"Tut, tut, Potter, I'm your guest, I should not have to work."

"Draco is right, Harry," Molly said, even if she sounded somewhat absent.

Draco's smirk widened and Harry glared, playfully. Sighing in defeat as if he had just been asked to sacrifice himself for the Light, Draco got up and started to put the plates in their places, while Harry brought the glasses and the cutlery.

"How many people are going to have breakfast Mrs. Weasley?" the blond asked, trying to gather as much information as he could and trying to pass it as interest gathered from his task.

"Oh, it's just eight of us . . ." she answered.

Draco's lovely blond head snapped towards Harry, and he mouthed: '_Just_ eight?' Harry laughed at him and nodded, receiving a look that said he was going to pay for that and a shake of Draco's fist.

In that moment, Hermione entered the kitchen with a disgruntled Ron in tow as Draco was threatening Harry behind Molly's back. Hermione, realising it was only a joke, raised an eyebrow that made Draco blush slightly and look away, giving her one last cold look – just for the principle of the thing. Harry smiled brightly, though.

"Why are you up so early?" he asked, moving to hug Hermione tightly.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her, and she saw it over Harry's shoulder. Her eyebrow went higher, and she pinched her lips speculatively. The raven-haired boy then moved over to hug Ron, who hugged him back, avoiding looking at Draco or even acknowledging his presence in any way. Harry then moved to stand by the blond who had just finished setting the table.

"Well, I guess you know Draco Malfoy," he said a bit awkwardly.

"Yes, we do," Hermione answered politely above Ron's mumble of 'Yes, unfortunately.' Draco bowed slightly.

"Good morning, Granger. Weasley." Then he faced Harry looking for approval and, even though neither of them noticed, the pale features became softer and somewhat tender. Ron tensed, while Hermione relaxed. "Of course we know each other, Potter, really, use that brain of yours . . ." Ron made a move towards his wand, but Hermione grabbed his wrist and gave him a warning look. Ron understood why quick enough. "I've met her in the Hog's Head Inn."

Ron shifted uncomfortably. It was a joke. Malfoy was joking with Harry; and then Harry laughed that heart-warming laugh of his that Ron thought he would never hear again after Sirius memorial. Focusing his attention on reality again, Ron saw something that almost made him choke. Harry and Malfoy were staring at each other; _tenderly_ and . . . _lovingly_!

George walked in and disrupted the odd mood that had set in the kitchen, even if Mrs. Weasley was still oblivious to everything around her. He took in the presences, nodding at Harry and finally his gaze set on Draco. Under the grieving twin stare, Draco's features became tense and guilt washed over his eyes – it was only there a moment, before Draco returned to his cold pleasant self. He offered his hand to George, who took it and shook it firmly. They nodded tentatively at each other, whilst their truce gained a true meaning.

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Draco looked at him and pinched his mouth, clearly stating that it was all Harry's fault.

"Good morning, children," said Arthur, smiling at them as he entered the kitchen.

He shook Draco's hand and hugged Harry tightly, too, and that was when Harry finally realised why Arthur seemed off all the time: his smile never reached his eyes.

"Good morning, Arthur," Molly said with a tone which seemed appropriate only to order her groceries. Harry didn't like it, but he had been hearing it for the past month so he hardly noticed he felt uncomfortable around them. She faced the teens. "We can start now. Hermione, did you wake Ginny up?"

"Yes, Molly."

They all took their usual places. Harry used to sit in the middle of Ron and Hermione, but since that could be a bit risky, he decide to sit where Ginny usually sat, at the end of the table and made Draco use Bill's place, right next to him.

Mrs. Weasley, being Mrs. Weasley, made sure they all ate several times. Her cooking was as delicious as always, and by the end of it, Draco had pink cheeks and that satisfied look that appeared when he got to enjoy the small pleasures of life without being scolded.

They hadn't talked much during the breakfast, Ron was obviously sulking; Ginny was sitting at the table, but it was clear that her brain was yet to catch up with the fact that she was awake; Hermione was trying to lecture Ron with her glare; and Arthur, Molly and George were lost in their own world, which surprisingly enough earned them some concealed sympathetic glances from Draco.

Harry was a somewhat distressed that things were not well with the Weasleys and decided that perhaps he should talk with Arthur about it and suggest that they considered therapy.

"Well, Draco, Harry, I'm sure you would like to unpack now," Molly started when it was obvious that all of them were full enough. "Maybe later you could play Quidditch with Ginny, Ron and George," she suggested.

Harry was listening, but from the corner of his eye, he saw Draco stifle a yawn and it wasn't the first one. Well, it was his own fault. The blond was the one that insisted they spend the night in the Glass Tower, and even if they had been comfortable, the fact is that they had spent mostly all night talking about their Hogwarts experiences; nothing related to their animosity or Voldemort, just typical teenager business. Like Cho Chang. Harry knew that Draco would make fun of it forever.

"Actually, Molly, I think Draco is tired. Well, I'm kind of tired, too. We kind of stayed up late last night," he said blushing. "Could we sleep a bit, just until lunch?" She looked surprised, but then smiled fondly, and Draco was sure she was lost, remembering something that had nothing to do with them.

"Sure thing, dear," she answered at last. Her smile broadened. "You two are staying in Bill's and Charlie's room. The beds are already set."

"Thank you, Molly," Harry said. Then he turned to the blond. "That way, maybe you will stop being cranky." Draco looked outraged. Harry knew better.

"How dare you?" he asked in mock offense. "I'm never cranky . . . sometimes I'm overly informative," he said, and smirked. "In the mornings and _only_ when I wake up early, but that has nothing to do with it," he completed dismissively, and Harry laughed warmly.

"Yeah, right, overly informative . . ." He pulled at Draco's shirt. "Let's go to bed and see if you lose some information."

In their defence, their bantering was really innocent.

* * *

The rest of the morning was uneventful.

Harry and Draco slept through the morning until Hermione woke them up for lunch – well she woke Harry up, and Harry woke Draco up, since the girl was refusing to go near the blond without her wand.

The lunch was pretty much a repetition of breakfast, except that there was a theme of conversation: the afternoon shopping at Diagon Alley.

"We can Apparate there," Arthur was saying. "Ginny still doesn't have her license, but I can take her in Side-Along Apparition." Molly nodded her agreement, and then turned to the teens.

"Diagon-Alley is safe because the minister planted Aurors there, so don't even think about wandering off to the side streets, am I clear?" All the teens agreed with different levels of enthusiasm. "Good. First we are going to Gringotts." She turned to Harry and Draco. "Do you boys have your keys and identification?"

At last, Harry understood. He had been suspicious when no one complained about his safety since he announced that he would be living alone; he had thought it was odd when the minister never requested his presence again, after his generous offer to accept him in Auror training; but most of all, he had been suspicious when, on his birthday party, Arthur and Remus had been more concerned about who had been living with him than where he had been staying. In that moment, he understood why. He had been under surveillance the whole time.

Harry got angry. How dare they?

"Yes, Molly, we do. I really need to get some money," Harry said finally.

"And you have to get a broom," Draco remembered immediately, while taking a sip of his juice.

"I didn't forget, you twit."

"Just in case."

Harry snorted in response. Then he sobered and shot a sideway glance towards Draco.

"Are you applying for the Seeker position?"

Draco's face broke in a full grin. "Yes, Potter, I am. Scared?"

"You wish!"

The blond grinned at him as if daring him to a challenge. "Are you the Captain, Harry?" asked Hermione, using the excuse to butt in. Both Harry and Draco chuckled at her question.

"Yes, he is, Granger." It was Draco who answered. "And I am Head Boy."

"I believe it goes without saying that he's been dying to tell you this, Hermione," Harry said, and he had the gall to smirk at Draco. The blond narrowed his eyes, but his lips were twitching in the corners as he fought a smile. Hermione found herself smiling at both of them but quickly change it to a scowl before anyone noticed.

Soon enough, everyone was ready, and they Apparated to Diagon Alley. The streets were as chaotic as Harry remembered; even though the streets near the bank – where they stood – were less crowded.

George bid them good-bye and left to the _Weasley Wizarding Wheezes_. Harry watched as he moved through the crowd, trying to enter his bright, dazzling store. The rest of the group moved as fast as they could without losing sight of each other and went to collect their money . . . as dreadful as _that_ was.

Draco was dotted upon, as the rich and _'dangerous'_ wizard that he was; the Goblins couldn't care less about wizarding morals, if their actions during the war were any indication.

On the contrary, Hermione, Ron and Harry had a terrible time, with all the goblins watching them warily since the three of them were known criminals in Gringotts. Hermione was the lucky one because she didn't have to go underground, since she would be exchanging Muggle money, but Harry and Ron paled and tensed up; they clutched to their wands and never left the others' side fearing that they would be left behind to die, if the goblin's evil smirk was any indication.

Once they got out, the Golden Trio finally breathed, and, looking at each other, they started to laugh. Everyone knew that they had robbed the bank, by their own testimony, and they had been pardoned by the Wizengamot, but it was stressing nonetheless.

Draco tried not to be jealous of the obvious reminder that he did not belong here. Not that Harry had done anything to make him feel like that; in fact, after they exited the white building, Harry had launched himself into a detailed description of how they had managed it. Draco would have been more than happy to squeal at the right time, but Malfoy's don't squeal, let's not forget.

They had moved to the centre of the alley, and the two adults were discussing where to go first. Draco wasn't paying that much attention to either since his focus was on the people walking past them on the street. They were eying him warily, their hands motioning to their wands and hurrying away from them. No one noticed the hateful stares, the mothers' ushering their children away, muttering words of disgust, veiled warnings and threats – only Hermione noticed the people's reactions and sent a sympathetic glance to the blond. Harry was looking at the stores', and even though he was standing close to the blond – much closer than he should, in the girl's opinion – he hadn't notice the situation. Draco caught her eyes and held her gaze, trying to convey to her that there was no need to alert Harry of the situation.

Draco knew they would not attack him – not because he had been forgiven before the Wizengamot, but because he was standing next to the Boy-Who-Lived. It irked him because he knew that his whole day was going to be like that; he was always going to be Draco Malfoy, the Death Eater. In his worst days, Draco thought that he probably deserved that kind of treatment; it wasn't like he was innocent.

After a moment, the glares and stares were impossible to ignore. Draco grew cold and aloof, and the usual scowl appeared on his face, which did nothing to improve the people's contempt. As if that wasn't enough, the bystanders had the guts to give Harry and the Weasleys confused looks and betrayed glares. No one dared to approach them though.

Harry subtly leaned towards the blond as if to give him support. The raven-haired boy was feeling his temper rise; he frowned and tried to ignore the people . . . it was _not_ working. That was when one very brave man – a redheaded, brawny man, who must have been in his forties – decided to express his sympathy for Harry, who had to escort known criminals in his free time, and his contempt for people who bought their way out of jail.

Finally, the Weasley couple realised what was happening. Arthur sighed, resigned, and motioned for the teens to enter the first store in sight.

However, instead of following Arthur right away, Harry motioned to give that poor excuse of a human being a piece of his mind. Hermione tensed, but moved to stand beside him; Ron groaned in exasperation and did the same. Draco was the one who stopped him.

"Let it be, Potter," he whispered in Harry's ear, curling his hand around Harry's elbow. "There is no need to defend the damsel in distress." At least he was joking, Harry thought, even though he didn't like the coldness in the gray eyes. "I was expecting that much, at least."

"Fine," Harry agreed. He glared even harder at the man, who took a step backwards with his feelings hurt; he was just trying to make Harry feel better for having to spend his time with a Death Eater. "Seriously, that was―"

Harry was interrupted by Draco's smug smirk. The blond seemed to be inflated with pride. Harry frowned in confusion. Draco noticed that, and his smirk gave way to a full grin – still smug though.

"I think you hurt his feelings, Potter," Draco explained, pointing through the window – and rather rudely – at the man's gobsmacked and slightly desperate expression. Harry shot him a disapproving look.

"You should stop gloating, Malfoy."

"Why? I'm under the protection of Harry Potter," Draco said adopting a solemn stance. "Nobody can touch me now," he added rather devilishly, even though Harry could tell from his pale expression and tense shoulders that the whole situation had bothered him more than just a little.

"Yeah, maybe next time Harry won't be around to save the princess . . ." Ron said, shoving Malfoy out of the way and moving further into the store. Draco's playful stance changed right away, and he glared dismissingly at the redhead.

"I'll talk to him, Harry," Hermione said, motioning to follow her boyfriend. She appeared to be a mist of displeasure concerning Ron's behaviour.

She left Harry and Draco who were awkwardly avoiding each other. Draco was angry with the Gryffindors, but he didn't want to offend Harry; he would never be able to complain in front of Harry about his best friends. Mentioned raven-haired boy knew he should apologise, but didn't want to make a choice between Draco and his best friends. The blond was the first one to make a move.

"Perhaps I should refrain from making such Slytherin comments in front of two obnoxious Gryffindors."

Harry looked up startled, only to realise that the other one was joking. He grinned.

"Yes, maybe you should," he said. "Not everyone has the sensitivity to know when you are joking." Draco chuckled, and Harry flashed him a wide grin.

They looked away from each other and scanned the store instead, finally noticing where they were. It was the _Magical Instruments Store_. Harry suddenly remembered that he should be buying school supplies because as far as he could remember he had none. He looked at Draco and by mutual accord they decided to approach Hermione and Ron, who were looking at some quills.

Almost an hour and a lot of bickering later—

"_Look, Draco, a peacock quill. I'm buying it for you, it suits you."_

"_Why, because I'm beautiful?" _

"_No, because you think you are . . ."_

—to which,Ron had groaned and Hermione had giggled and murmured 'Honestly!' – the seven of them left the shop fully equipped with quills, notebooks, ink, pieces of parchment and such.

They practically dashed to _Flourish and Blott's_, unable to avoid people's glares, but not stopping long enough for said people to find enough courage to approach the Boy-Who-Lived. Thankfully, the shop was too crowded for anyone to notice who had just walked in . . . which also meant that it was nearly impossible for them to stay together. Not wanting Draco to be left alone, Harry held his wrist and guided them to one of the shelves where an employee used to be, ready to take their orders. The blond didn't complain and followed Harry, quite satisfied in fact. Soon enough, they were heading towards the exit with their books shrunken in a small paper bag.

Harry saw Ron and Hermione and told them that they were going to the _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ – which was also the paradise to any school boy. Harry took the catalogue, deciding on choose a broom calmly and at home. His eyes were caught by a photograph of the most recent broom, the _Firebolt X-Treme_. Draco eyed it with envy, but there was no need for him to buy other broom – at least until he talked to his mother. They bought some new protections and left shortly after.

Along with the Weasleys and Hermione, they went to the _Apothecary_, which brought back some dark memories to Draco and Harry due to their connection with Snape. They breathed out in relief as soon as they got out of there and were free from the familiar smells.

They followed to _Madame Malkin's Robe Shop_ where they faced another issue. Since long before the war, the Malfoys and Madame Malkin had had a complicated relationship, which Harry should have suspected when Malfoy insisted on them going to another shop; the lady all but refused Draco's admittance in the building. By the end of their shopping day, the blond was ready to leave without his robes after being poked with the pins so many times.

Regardless to say, as soon as they had purchased everything, Arthur Disapparated their new possessions to the Burrow and they slouched themselves in the seats of the _Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour_ – well, except for Draco, who sat down as gracefully as he did everything else.

They made their orders when the juvenile waiter moved towards their table.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco asked gesturing to the brown-haired server – who flinched in a very unmanly way at Draco's hand movement. Quirking an eyebrow, the blond opted to ignore the teen.

"I think I want this burger . . ." Harry mused pointing the Menu Nr.3. Draco grimaced.

"That's disgusting."

Harry turned to face him. "And why is that?"

"It's not healthy," Draco stated firmly. "I would suggest that you chose a salad like myself."

"I don't like salads," the raven-haired boy said.

"Harry can eat what he wants," Ron put in rather rudely. "He has been eating that for as long as I know him, and it didn't kill him so far."

"Yes, Weasley, because we're young," Draco drawled. "The day you have to go to St. Mungo's to cleanse your veins of cholesterol, we will talk." He appeared to think about it. "Or not, because I do not intend to speak to you unless it is strictly necessary."

"Malfoy, be nice," Harry admonished. The blond scowled. Ron opened his mouth to continue the argument, but Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, _hard _he might add, and gave him a look that successfully shut Ron up. Hermione knew better that to push away someone that Harry appeared to consider a friend.

"Yes, mother."

Harry grinned at him and ordered the burger nonetheless.

As if summoned, Narcissa Malfoy was making her way through the crowd. Her presence was enough to convince anyone that approaching her was not wise, but not even Narcissa's charisma could prevent the hateful glares and the twitching hands that tended to motion to their owners wands. She approached the family and, respectfully, nodded at the older couple. Both Harry and Draco stood up when she arrived, as the proper gentlemen they were. Harry didn't think he was being a gentleman; it was just easier to kiss her hand if he was standing – whoever decided men should stand up when women entered the room must've thought of that.

Naturally, Narcissa eased into the seat next to her son and crossed her long legs. Taking in her son's pale complexion and nervous glances – being sure that it was only she who noticed such things in Draco's stoic facial features – she was sure that the trip hadn't been easy on him.

"So, Harry, Draco," Narcissa began, miffed than she should have been for being in Weasleys company. "Did you get everything you need?"

"Yes, Mother," Draco answered right away, since he was too glad that he didn't have to endure awkward silences anymore. "Harry and I even stopped by the Quidditch shop to get some new equipment."

"Honestly, boys," Narcissa commented. "I always wondered what is so special about that inelegant sport . . ."

"I believe it's an excuse for Harry to try and be better than me in something, Mother," Draco suggested light-heartedly.

"Well, I don't actually have to_ try_ since I _am_ better, right?" Harry replied, managing to maintain a straight face.

While the boys bickered about their successes and defeats as Seekers, Ron and Ginny were exchanging sympathetic glances to each other that clearly stated that their friendship needed to be rectified. Hermione was watching all of them warily.

"I think I can relate to that, Mrs. Malfoy," Mrs. Weasley stated absentmindedly. "Every time I think about all the injuries, the shred clothes, the broken limbs and the nights of worry, I do have to wonder what is so fun about that sport – other than worry your mother, that is."

"I think I do agree with you, Mrs. Weasley," Narcissa said amused. Mrs. Weasley hardly acknowledged that. She had a dreamy expression on her face.

"On the other hand," the redheaded woman continued. "Every time I think about how much fun they had, I have to be happy that I got to see that." Suddenly, the silence was deafening. Everyone knew very well what Mrs. Weasley was talking about, and the enraged expressions of the younger people in the room, changed to a pained one.

Narcissa berated herself. Seriously, one ought to think that Quidditch would be a safe theme, but apparently it wasn't.

In that moment, another waiter came by with the four teens' orders and apologised for his colleague who apparently was unable to attend their table. The badge in his chest told them that he was the manager. It was not hard to tell – by his cold demeanour, among others – that the previous waiter had refused to attend to their table because of Draco.

Narcissa was itching to Apparate away from these lowly people, but she was a pure-blood, and a Slytherin and Slytherins do _not_ turn on their own. Harry was one of hers. As instinctive as that might be, as long as she recognised one person as worthy, they were hers for life. Draco had chosen Harry, so Narcissa would accept Harry and his family – even their poor taste in establishments.

"I can't believe this!" Ron exclaimed, surprising everyone. "Who do they think they are? He has no right to discriminate," the redhead proceeded loudly trying to make the waiters to listen. "I bet he was hiding under his bed when we were fighting Death Eaters at Hogwarts!"

Some patrons – who, until then, had been watching Ron with annoyance written on their faces – tore their eyes away in shame. They could not respond to that accusation, since they had quite ecstatically put their hopes in the hands of a teenager and had done nothing to help him, quite the contrary in fact. To Ron, that knowledge was something that came with maturity.

Draco was watching him intently.

"I appreciate your efforts Weasley," the blond said. "But I do not think it's needed for _you_ of all people to defend my honour."

"Oh, stuff it, Malfoy," Ron held dismissively. "I don't like you, and I think you are the devil's spawn, but that doesn't make _them_ right!"

Hermione was watching her on-again-off-again boyfriend with something akin to a mix of desire and pride – just like the time when he had the consideration of reminding them of the house-elves during the war. Harry felt warm and content knowing that his friends were still there for him, even if they did not agree with his choice of friendship.

"Ron is right, Draco," Harry intervened. Ron puffed with pride.

The change in Narcissa's demeanour was astonishing, pretty much like Draco's had been. Both of them grew cold, stoic and detached. Harry was heavily reminded of what he had thought when they had first met them.

"That's enough, Ron," Mr. Weasley said, putting a hand on his son shoulder. He never once looked at the Malfoys.

Narcissa caught the tension in the air and nodded at Draco. For Harry's sake, they had tried, but she had had enough. She wondered how she could possibly have though that these ignorant blood traitors would have the finesse of respecting their family choices. Well that was not true . . . Mrs. Weasley appeared to believe in acceptance, but for the looks of it, the woman was not in her perfect mind.

"I will call for the bill, Mother," Draco said, and then he turned to face Harry. "I will take Mother home. Firecall me when you are ready to return, and I will deactivate the wards, yes?" Harry shook his head.

"Don't be stupid," Draco thought for a second that Harry would not return to the manor. "I will come with right away." Then he gestured to the manager who understood the signal and went inside.

However, it was not the manager who brought the bill but the waiter from before. The boy had a tray in his hands with some sort of soda. When he bent over to put the small piece of parchment on the table, one of the other waiters – who was serving the next table – leaned back, knocking the tray over in the process and spilled the soda on the blond.

Draco just stared for a few moments, and then he turned his hateful gaze to the waiter, who looked genuinely apologetic and somewhat scared. It had truly been an accident, but after such a tiring day, the blond could take no more. Harry seemed to realise that because he waved the waiter away as soon as he felt the heat waves of anger leave the blond. Everyone realised the danger of the situation, because not even Ron or Ginny were mocking the blond. If Draco lost his temper, he would be shipped to the Minister as fast as he drew his wand.

"It was an accident, Draco," Harry stated firmly, looking directly at the grey eyes, while he took his wand and casted a Cleaning spell over the blond's shirt. Something changed and Draco decided not to make the situation worse. It was not like he had planned on attacking the poor teen, mind you, but he had intended on his best 'you're-as-worthless-as-any-Mudblood-and-I'm-better-than-you' speech to go with his scowling face. That expression combined with that speech was known for making people cry.

"It's better if we leave now," Narcissa suggested.

"Yes, but please let the boys come to the Burrow as it was planned," Mrs. Weasley asked politely, and apologetically, as if that whole day had been her fault.

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley, if they want to there's nothing stopping them." Both women turned to them.

"If Draco is still up to it," Harry said, and he too faced the blond. Said boy just sighed.

"As if I have a choice when you look at me like that . . ."

* * *

TBC


	8. Weasley Grieving

**Weasley Grie****ving**

By Dani-ko

Beta: MrsHellman

* * *

Saturday evening was silent and reflexive, neither of the inhabitants of the Burrow wanted to talk much; among some rounds of chess and other wizard games, and listening to the _Wizard's Wireless Network_, it soon was night time. Before they fell asleep, Mrs. Weasley made them pancakes and tea and all of them went to bed feeling really comfortable.

Harry and Draco changed in silence – while they stole concealed glances at each other – and then went to the bathroom and jumped into bed. Before turning in for the day, Harry lay on his stomach and carefully studied the catalogue from the _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ which was open on his pillow.

"So, have you decided for a broom yet?" Draco asked, turning away from the wall to face Harry. Harry looked at him and grinned.

"Are you trying to spy on the enemy's weapons?" Draco smirked.

"It's not like you can hide it from me . . ." Harry looked back to the catalogue again.

"I think I'm in love with the new Firebolt . . . I can afford it, but―"

"Please don't tell me you think it's unfair!" the blond exclaimed. Harry smiled apologetically and Draco rolled his eyes. "I knew it. Well, my dearest Gryffindor, I think it's stupid but I don't intent on convincing you to buy a broom that would give me very little chances of beating you." Harry blushed at the 'dearest' and looked down to hide it.

"Well, I'll think about it tomorrow," Harry finally conceded. He closed the catalogue and threw it to the end of the bed. He laid back and snuggled into his blankets, facing Draco; he yawned.

"Sleepy, are we?" the blond questioned fondly. Harry grinned in confirmation. Draco reached for the lamp and turned it off. "Goodnight, Potter."

"Goodnight, Malfoy." And the lights went off.

~*~

Most of the teens slept through the morning, except for Harry and Hermione, who – as usual – got up before nine.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, they decided to discuss Lucius' Spell – Hermione decided the name, since Harry jokingly said that he wanted something cool, like _Spell 101_ or _Big Secret X, _to which Hermione playfully exclaimed _'Boys!'_.

As soon as Harry entered the living room, the girl shoved a tea cup into his hands and started to show him her discoveries. She spread her notes and schemes on the living room tea table and gestured for Harry to take a look. There were all types, sizes and shapes of paper and even one napkin. Soon enough, Harry gave up trying to understand the whole thing. Placing his tea aside, he ignored the notes and looked at Hermione. She was glancing at him with a mix of excitement, anticipation and eagerness. Surely, she overestimated him if she thought he would be able to decipher her notes.

"Hermione, do you really expect me to understand what the hell it says in these?" Harry asked gesturing to the notes. She looked a little disappointed.

"Okay, fine, I'll explain it to you," she huffed. "The spell is a mix of some sort of a _Confundus_ _Charm_, _Incarcerous_, _Obscuro_ and a _Memory Charm_," Hermione explained dryly. Harry thought it was amusing that she was angry with him for not being able to understand her notes.

"Come on, Mione, you can do better than that," he teased. She sighed exasperatedly, but smiled lightly.

"It is exactly that, Harry," she said. "Malfoy is confused, he is trapped in his own mind, he can't see the reality and he has memory loss . . . I think it's useless to find out exactly what the spell is, we should come up with the counter spell knowing this."

"Okay," he said brightly, knowing that there was a way to fix this. Then something occurred to him and he looked slightly put out. "How do we do it?" She smirked.

"We'll need an incantation with more than two words," she explained excitedly. The raven nodded in understanding. "And we have to choose a language for the incantation," she proceeded. "Any ancient language would do, but it's easiest in Latin."

"I hope you know that I don't know how to talk anything other than English," Harry reminded her. She gave him a pinched look.

"Well, you should learn. Any prized Auror knows at least three languages." He gave her an exasperated look and decided to think about that another time.

"Yes, focus on subject, okay?" She looked affronted, he grinned. "Come on, Mione, we want to solve this . . ." Harry sing-songed. Hermione glared at him but returned to her notes.

"Fine!" she agreed briskly. "I'm looking into it, but right now I have no time for research, since we are leaving quite soon and a trip to the Minister Library would take a lot of time."

In that moment, they heard a door open and close and then other door open and close. It was obvious that someone was awake and had gone to the bathroom. Not willing to risk being caught solving the spell, Harry and Hermione started to put the schemes back into their folders.

"Oh, that's fine, we can continue with this at Hogwarts," Harry said quickly, leaning closer to her and speaking lower. "I'm sure Madam Pince would be delighted to order us some books from the Minister." He was only being half-sarcastic. "Then I'll help you with the _incantation_, okay?"

"Yes, you should, because we have to have our _intention_ well-defined and you have to be the one to cast the spell." He nodded at her so she knew that he understood what she meant. His magic was the opposite of Voldemort's; it would be more effective if he cast the spell.

"Yes, can you lend me these notes?" Harry waved the folder. "I will study them and see if I can think of anything else."

"Yes, of course." Hermione sent a longing look towards the kitchen. "I'm hungry." For the first time since he had woken up, he noticed that Mrs. Weasley wasn't in the kitchen making breakfast like she would any other day. His stomach chose that moment to remind Harry of its existence.

"Where is Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked.

"In the garden I think. She said she would make breakfast when everyone woke up." They looked at each other and the thoughts about this not being normal passed between them.

"It's almost ten-forty-five; maybe we should wake everybody else."

"What for? We might as well go eat for ourselves." Harry chuckled at her practicality.

"Okay, go ahead," Harry conceded. "I'm going to wake Malfoy up so that he can eat with us."

"That won't be necessary," drawled a voice from the doorway. Looking up, Harry saw the blond entering the living room. He was showered and dressed in black denim and a blue polo. They smiled broadly at each other and their eyes lit up, much to Hermione's amusement. The girl cleared her throat to remind them that she was still there, startling both teens.

"Oh, good morning, Granger," the blond said. He smirked at Harry. "Potter." Harry grinned.

"Hermione and I were going to make breakfast now," Harry said, not sure if Draco had caught that part of the conversation.

"Oh, I'll help then," the blonde offered.

The three teens decided that they should make breakfast – or brunch, since it almost lunch time – for everyone else as well. There was no reason for them to wait for Mrs. Weasley. She was not their cook. Regardless to say, the task of cooking fell on Hermione and Harry, since Draco just sat elegantly on the table. Apparently, by 'help' he meant moral support.

"I swear I don't understand how you Gryffindors manage to wake up so early . . ." Draco mused aloud some time later.

"It's not all Gryffindors, just me and Harry," Hermione corrected absentmindedly, since she was focussed on not breaking the eggs she was carrying in her hands.

"Speaking of which," Harry stated, sparing a sideway glance at the blonde teen. "Why are you up so early?" Draco pretended to be focused on changing the _Wireless_ channels and just hummed in response, but Harry thought he appeared embarrassed, which only managed to pike the raven's curiosity. "Malfoy?" Harry pressed.

"Oh, nothing," the Slytherin said dismissively – and he really hoped Harry would just dismiss the subject. "I just woke up and noticed you were gone so I thought I should get up."

"Oh, you felt lonely," Harry cooed, making Hermione chuckle, amused by their antics. By now she was past the point of pretending that they didn't look cute together. "Maybe I can get you a teddy bear and then you won't have to feel like that." Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I do _not_ feel lonely," Draco emphasized, just for good measure. "I just wondered where you were. I do not wish to get lost in a house full of Weasleys," he said waving his hand around. "And almost Weasleys, mind you," Draco finished pointing at Hermione, whose hand itched for its wand. Harry chuckled.

"Don't tell me he is not right, 'cause you know he is," Harry told the girl, who glared at him.

"Don't encourage him," she commanded angrily.

"If I were you, I wouldn't annoy Granger," Draco drawled, observing his perfectly manicured nails. "She has a nasty right hook." Caught by surprise, both Gryffindors burst out laughing. Draco grinned.

"I had forgotten about that," Harry said catching his breath. He had been so surprise when Hermione had hit Draco in their third year. Hermione appeared embarrassed.

"I can't believe I used violence on a fellow student," she said. Both boys looked at her as if she was crazy.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, it was Malfoy," the raven reminded her, patting her on the shoulder and earning a smack on arm from Draco. She laughed.

"It actually does."

"Don't make me hit you too, Granger." Hermione laughed harder.

~*~

As the days went by, Harry had come to accept that something was definitely not right.

He had thought it was odd – really odd, problem-inducing odd – that Mrs. Weasley had forfeit her right and privilege to make breakfast for all the people she'd usually always make breakfast for, and had instead opted for _de_-gnome-_ing_ her garden, but he had decided not to give it much importance. However, when she had spent most of the day silently busying herself with tasks she wouldn't normally do, Harry started to wonder why her children and husband were so unconcerned about the whole ordeal. He wondered if this was at all normal nowadays.

It was late mid-afternoon and Harry was sitting in his room with Draco – who had fallen asleep with a book in his lap, and his neck twisted in what was probably a painful angle. The raven decided to confront Mrs. Weasley about this subject, completely oblivious to the fact that that might not be the best approach. With this in mind, Harry walked in the kitchen.

The sight that greeted him shocked him beyond words. Mrs. Weasley was downing half a bottle of firewhisky! Where the other half had gone, he could only imagine.

_Ho__w long has this been happening?_ Harry wondered. He finally managed to find his bearings and dashed through the room and snatched the bottle away from the woman. She looked as if she didn't realised what was happening, looking at Harry as if this was the first time seeing him. Harry guessed that she never expected to be caught.

"Mrs. Weasley? What is this?" he managed to choke out. She bit her lower lip and fidgeted.

"It's just to calm down." Harry would have said that he had never seen something so pitiful, but lately he had been often surprised with pitiful things. The ginger woman tried to grab the bottle again, but Harry wouldn't let her.

"You drink this often?" She didn't answer. Harry snapped. It was obvious that she did. She had been strange and absentminded since the end of the war, and if she had been drinking, her actions and behaviour suddenly gained a new meaning. "Does Mr. Weasley know? Do your children know? Why are you drinking this?!"

"It's none of your business Harry Potter!" she yelled.

"How is this none of my business?! Is this because of Fred?" Yes, sensitivity and tact were never Harry's strong suit.

Mrs. Weasley took a step back as if Harry had hit her square in the face. Her knees gave away and she fell to the floor. Her hands fisted her hair and she started to cry. Mrs. Weasley's sobs got louder and louder, until she started to trash the kitchen; she threw plates everywhere. The clock with the nine pointers was next. She punched the tables and the walls. Afraid that she might hurt anyone or worse, hurt herself, Harry flew forward and held her tightly, while she trashed and screamed.

Harry was sure she called Fred a few times.

The noise attracted the Weasleys. Mr. Weasley came in a rush and he took in the scene in front of him: the firewhisky bottle on the floor, Mrs. Weasley trashing and punching Harry in the chest, the destroyed kitchen. Suddenly, emotion flooded his eyes and Harry saw in them, for the first time in months, the light which had been missing; relief softened his expression. George came down from his room and looked at the scene completely aghast; Ron's eyes filled with tears and Ginny's did too, but she also neared Harry and her mother and hugged her as well. That seemed to spring the men to action.

Mr. Weasley approached his wife and replaced Harry holding her for dear life. The raven stepped back and let Mrs. Weasley's family give her the support she obviously needed. George and Ron sat down on the floor and hugged both women.

Hermione – who, Harry realised, had been standing in the doorway all along – looked up at Harry when he stopped by her side on his way out of the kitchen, intending on giving the Weasleys the privacy they needed. Her eyes shone with admiration and appreciation.

"I knew I could count on you," she said simply. He didn't look back; especially because he didn't want her too see what her words did to him.

"You knew?"

"Yes, and I told Ron and Mr. Weasley, but they did nothing." The girl sounded guilty. "I didn't think it was wise to confront her, and probably if it had been me I would've been right."

Harry said nothing for a while, Mrs. Weasley's screams and cries, Ginny's sobs, Ron's sighs, George's whimpering and Mr. Weasley's soothing words – meant for himself as well as for his family – were clouding his mind.

It was awful. Harry hadn't realised but he had started to consider the Burrow some sort of sanctuary, where he would always be protected from the evils of the world. It was home, like Hogwarts, even tough he could not say it out loud. For him to see such a display . . . Harry couldn't stay in the kitchen any longer, he couldn't see the Weasleys so broken, completely shattered – or interfere in this moment when Mrs. Weasley didn't feel comfortable with him being in the room.

"I'll go find Draco."

Without waiting for her answer, he strode up the stairs, two steps at once. He opened the door to his room and found Draco pacing around, obviously agitated. He had probably woken with the screams, because his hair was dishevelled and he still had pillow marks on his right cheek.

"What the fuck is going on downstairs, Potter?"

Harry just stared. Draco was worried about him, he could tell, and why had he needed to just come to this room? Usually, he would have wanted to be alone, but sometime along the past three months, that had changed. Now, he needed Draco. He entered the room and sat down on the blonde's bed.

"Family issues." Draco scowled.

"You lot finally realised that Mrs. Weasley had been drinking, right?" Harry's head snapped up at him and Draco unintentionally stepped back.

"We did. I found her drinking," he explained. "You knew?"

"I've been there. During fifth year mother found her best friends in the cellar," he sneered. Then he looked at Harry curiously. "Why aren't you downstairs crying with them?" The other grinned humourlessly and Draco didn't like it.

"It's their moment," was the dry reply. Draco walked to his bed and crouched in front of Harry. He leaned in.

"Tell me," the blond requested softly.

"Apparently, it's none of my business." Draco sighed, annoyed.

"Don't be silly, Harry." Said boy appeared confused. "You are hurt because you think they don't care about you as much as you care for them." Harry looked away, giving Draco all the confirmation he needed. "That's not true. They care for you as if you were their own son and brother, I can assure you."

"Seriously, Draco, it's not a big deal." Draco snorted in disbelieve.

"Of course it is," he retorted. "You wouldn't believe the things my mother told me in her drunken rages. I forgave her, obviously, but sometimes I just have to get away from her because the memories are too much."

Harry listened to what was not being said. In that sentence there were hints as to why Malfoy had been in the Hog's Head Inn, why Narcissa and Draco were so cold towards each other and Draco's ultimate vote of confidence – Harry could not imagine what that admission of weakness meant for a wealthy pureblood like a Malfoy.

"I'm sorry," Harry felt that it was the right thing to say as he placed his hand on Draco's shoulder.

"This is not about me, Potter. This is about you . . ." Draco reminded him, "And please don't feel guilty for not wanting to be downstairs with them. People grieve in different ways. You may want to be alone and that's okay, they'll understand."

"I don't want to be alone. I want to be with you." Draco felt his breath catch in his throat. Okay, Harry had never been this blunt. The blond decided to ignore the warm feeling that was spreading in his chest – and the rest of the body – that was prompting the will to do other things other than just crouch in front of Harry. Draco could tell that there was still something.

"I deeply appreciate that feeling." They stared at one another, trying to show each other the true of their confession, but Draco sobered quite quickly. This was not the moment. "What else is wrong?" Harry started to tell him about the things Hermione had said, and after that the rest just came out of his mouth like when a floodgate opened.

"I don't understand why people keep putting everything on my shoulders; I didn't even know what was going on, how could I solve this? How could she have been counting on me?" Harry exploded. "I would like to see what they will say about me the day I finally fail them." Draco realised with a startle that the raven's rant was hiding his fear of failing, of not being good enough.

"You know that she didn't mean it like that," was what he said.

"Yeah, maybe, but I'm so tired, so _fucking_ tired," Harry breathed. "Ever since I remember, everything has to be me! I'm tired, I already did what I was supposed to do, how come they don't leave me alone?"

"They never asked, Harry. It is you that can't be left alone."

"That's not true . . ." But it was a weak protest and they both knew it.

"It is. You feel responsible for everyone who is hurting because of the Dark Lord. Well, you shouldn't," Draco told Harry firmly. The younger teen lost his focus, turning his attention towards his own thoughts.

"He caused me, as well as others, so much suffering," was the simple statement. Behind his closed lids, he knew he would see Mrs. Weasley's suffering. "And he was just one man. I've been fighting him for so long . . . even now that he is dead, he still haunts us."

"Harry, I would like to hear what he did from you one day." Draco said as he remembered that he never knew the truth of Harry's heroic deeds. It wasn't needed further explanation; Harry knew what Draco meant.

Without any restraint, Harry started to talk. He told Malfoy everything and anything.

He started with his first year and Quirrel story, the traps the teachers had arranged to defend the Stone and the story of the Stone itself. He told Draco how scared he had been and how Ron and Hermione had been right there for him. Then he talked about his second year and the blond tensed, but listened nonetheless; he smiled fondly when telling how Hermione had figured out how the basilisk moved around the castle, that he had been close to death, how Fawkes had come to his rescue. With the story of his third year, he talked about his parents, Sirius, Remus, Snape, Pettigrew and the prophecy of Voldemort's return.

When he started to talk about the Tri-Wizard Tournament, he never realised that he started to cry. Tears were pooling from his eyes and falling freely down his face and cheeks. He spoke of how he had run away that time, of the _Priori Incantatem_ and of the impostor Moody. He laughed a bit when talking about his fifth year and showed Draco the scar with the sayings _'I'm not supposed to tell lies'_

The sun outside moved up in the sky, while the boys were still talking – well Harry did the talking, Draco was listening. By now, Harry was sobbing and still hadn't realised it himself.

The sixth year was the worse until Draco told him his tale too; between the two of them, they had come to peace with what they had done to each other that year. Draco had apologised profusely about the choices he had made and had claimed that he regretted it as soon as he realised what he was supposed to do. Harry apologised for hexing him and told him that Snape and Dumbledore had planned the Headmaster's death.

Talking about the hunt for Horcruxes was not hard, especially because Draco already knew what Voldemort was. However, Harry also talked about Dumbledore and how revolted Harry had been for being used and how ready he had been to die for Hogwarts; how Narcissa saved him, how his sacrifice prevented Voldemort from attacking anyone who fought for him at Hogwarts and killed the last Horcrux. Finally, he told Draco about Severus Snape life, his love for Lily, his courage and his ultimate sacrifice.

By the end of their conversation, Draco said nothing, just got up and sat next to Harry. The blond put his arms around the smaller body and hugged him tightly. Harry allowed the comfort and encircling the other's waist, let himself cry away all of his frustration, guilt, grieve and loneliness and sadness.

It was early evening; the sun hadn't set yet, but it was casting an orange glow over the room. Neither Harry nor Draco had eaten anything since lunch, but none of them was willing to leave the room just yet.

"Do you have any idea how amazing you are?" Draco asked in the end. "I admire you so much and I'm so glad you trusted me with this." Harry snorted, sceptically. "It's true; it amazes me that someone so admirable has this bond with me. I feel so blessed."

Harry looked up, with his red-rimmed eyes and puffy nose and lips, in absolute wonder.

"You are serious, aren't you?" Draco nodded. The raven just laid his head on Draco's shoulder and snuggled closer, closing his eyes tiredly. "Thank you . . ." he whispered. "I feel like a huge weight was just taken off from my chest."

"One day, I'll tell you my story, too. Just not now." Harry nodded, his eyes felt heavy and his body didn't want to move.

"That's okay; you don't have to tell me unless you want to." Draco loosened his grip on the smaller teen and Harry glanced at him in confusion.

"You seem pretty tired." Without waiting for an answer, he shifted them until they were lying on his bed, but still holding each other. Draco spooned his body against Harry's and let a hand trail softly through the other's hair.

He really wanted Harry to fell good again. He wanted Harry to be as carefree and cheerful as he was during his time at the manor. Draco knew that it was wrong to want such a thing, because Harry had the right to heal in his own way and time. The blond frowned. Since when did he feel so protective over the heroic Gryffindor?

Harry was feeling drained in every way and was soon sound asleep.

~*~

Harry never noticed he had fallen asleep until he woke up. He could hear Draco speaking with someone. He listened. Judging from the voice, it was Mr. Weasley. He listened more carefully as his brain cleared up and he started to process what he was hearing.

"― apologises," Mr. Weasley said.

"I think you have nothing to worry about." Harry could now feel the blonde's hand on his hip squeezing it lightly. "He cares for all of you very much."

"Thank you," the elder Weasley replied.

"What for?" the blonde asked.

"For taking care of him." Feeling his face lit up in embarrassment, Harry decided that it was time for them to know he was awake.

"I don't need taking care of." Even to his own ears, Harry thought his voice sounded raspy. He sat up, making Draco's hand fall off from his body.

Draco was sitting in front of him, as if shielding Harry from Mr. Weasley and, although it was impolite, he made no movement to step aside. Mr. Weasley was sitting on Harry's bed, legs spread apart for support and his hands resting on his knees. Both Draco and Mr. Weasley smiled at the raven.

"I thought you boys might be hungry." He tried to sound cheerful, but he failed miserably. The man sobered when he realised this and faced the teens seriously.

"Everything is okay, Harry," he said. "I'm sorry you had to witness this and we are grateful to you for helping Molly." Harry tensed visibly and Draco reached for his hand unnoticeably; neither boy gave any indication of what the blond had done, but Mr. Weasley saw it nonetheless and it made him feel less concerned with Harry's tendency to shut everyone out.

"It's okay," Harry assured mildly.

"No, it is not," was Mr. Weasley's immediate reply. "Taking care of Molly was my own task and I neglected it. No children of mine should ever have to deal with something like this." Harry listened to what the elder Weasley was saying and he understood what he was trying to convey. Harry was family. The raven thought that Mr. Weasley should have had the time to heal as well, though. He moved forward and sat besides Draco.

"I'm not a kid anymore," Harry said. "You lost a child too." Mr. Weasley's face twisted in pain and he sighed.

"Unfortunately, you were never a child, Harry. You never had the _time_ to be a child," he replied as if he was personally responsible for the fact. "It still doesn't change the fact that you always manage to save our family . . . like you did today. I wonder when it will come to the point when someone will take care of you – we try, but we always fail you."

"Mr. Weasley," Harry said quietly. "You gave me a family. And family takes care of each other, right?"

"You always take care of everyone else, and you rarely get anything in return," Mr. Weasley protested in response. Harry shrugged.

"Draco says it's me that doesn't allow people to take care of me, so . . ." He let the rest of the statement hang in the air. Mr. Weasley fought the urge to tell Harry that at least Draco was taking care of him, but he wasn't sure if that would be well received.

"Well, even so, I wanted to thank you," the redheaded said instead. "I've already made an appointment at St. Mungo's Psychiatric Unit for Molly." He patted Harry's hand. "Everything is going to be okay."

Harry nodded tightly. Mr. Weasley moved forward and pulled Harry in for a tight hug. The desperation, gratitude and intensity of the embrace made Harry feel weak and he nearly wanted to cry. He returned it, but he didn't let go of Draco's hand. When they departed, Mr. Weasley's eyes were suspiciously shiny. The three males cleared their throats – as if it helped to clear their minds of the emotions welling upon them because of the moment.

"Well, I wasn't stalling when I told you I thought you might be hungry, you know?" Mr. Weasley said to lighten up the mood. "Everyone is already having supper." He got up and walked out of the bedroom, with both boys in tow. "I'm afraid that I'm not as good with cooking as Molly but it will have to do."

When they were about to enter the kitchen, Harry hesitated. He looked to Draco a bit desperate. The blond turned and faced Harry. The boys stood there, facing each other, aligned from head to toe, barely touching. Harry was looking up and Draco realised that the boy was trying to tell him something without wanting to speak out loud.

'_I don'__t want to go in there,'_ he was saying. Draco touched Harry's cheek with his index finger.

'_It's okay,'_ he replied. Draco held Harry's hand and pulled him towards the kitchen.

When they got in, everyone looked gloom and lost in their own world and they didn't notice the boys' holding hands – much like Hermione and Ron were doing.

~*~

It was the eve of the departure for _Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft_ and Harry was amazed to see how the routine at the Malfoy Manor was so similar to the one at the Burrow.

He and Draco were having supper in the dining room and Narcissa had opted to have hers later with Lucius – even though he could not acknowledge her presence, it was something that she did at least once a week; Harry would have thought it was pretty sad, but Narcissa didn't seem affected in the least. From the room, they could hear her shouting – not screaming, because a proper lady does _not_ scream – orders to the house-elves about washing the clothes in the right temperatures or with matching colours and about ironing the clothes in a specific order, so that the boys could pack it the right way.

Harry couldn't help but to snigger at the Malfoy matriarch behaviour, especially because he was sure that the house-elves were more than capable of taking care of everything. He could picture Mrs. Weasley screaming those very same orders – with the difference that Mrs. Weasley would be screaming at her children and not at house-elves. His amusement died when he realised that the red-headed woman probably wouldn't be doing that this year. He really wanted her to get better, and fast.

While Harry was lost with thoughts of his surrogate family, Draco was watching the parade of expressions in the raven's face. He could almost hear what his thoughts were all about. Harry was so expressive that the blonde could not help but to watch him in wonder – not that it showed in his face, of course.

"Boys!" bellowed a flustered Narcissa from the doorway. "Have you packed everything else?"

"Yes, mother."

"Yes, Narcissa."

"Good," she turned her attention inwards apparently considering if there was something missing. "I'll have your clothes ready shortly," she said and disappeared to do what only the gods knew about.

Harry and Draco finished their meal and retreated to their rooms to actually finish their packing and hopefully prevent Narcissa from discovering that in fact they hadn't packed yet.

They exchanged a sympathetic glance and put their hands to work, each entering their own bedroom.

In truth, Harry was almost finished. The books he managed to read during the summer and some other belongings he would not be taking to Hogwarts had been sent to Grimmauld Place, number 12 and his clothes – the ones which were clean and pressed – were already in his trunk. He didn't have many accessories, but his Quidditch equipment and school supplies were already in their respective cases in the main trunk. His other personal belongings were also packed.

When he was finished, he went to the blonde's bedroom. He knocked and without waiting for a reply he entered the room. He rolled his eyes at the sight that greeted him.

The blond was sitting in front of the fireplace, in a lounger, in the small chambers connected to his bedroom. He was drinking his tea and enjoying one of the ridiculous books he liked to read . . . while his house-elves were packing his possessions.

"Honestly, Malfoy, they―" He interrupted himself. He was about to say that the small creatures were not Draco's servants, but that was not true at all. Changing tactics, Harry said, "Packing is something that is your responsibility." Draco grinned smugly.

"You are just envious that you didn't think of that."

"Damn straight." They laughed.

Eventually, Narcissa came up with the remaining of their clothes. She lectured them for about thirty minutes about proper behaviour and whatnot for the upcoming school year – and if she was anything like Mrs. Weasley, Harry was sure they would be hearing it again the very next day at the station.

Finally, each boy retreated to their own quarters.

Harry finished his nightly ablutions and went to bed . . .

Almost an hour later, he was still wide awake and wondering if Draco was too. He was very anxious about his return to Hogwarts. He wondered what he would feel if he were to go up to the Astronomy Tower again; and how the Welcoming Feast would be without Dumbledore to welcome them. Would McGonagall be able to handle the position as Headmistress? And the Slytherins, how would they act? And the―

"Harry?" The raven looked up to see Draco standing in the doorway of his bedroom.

"Are you okay?" he asked. The blonde appeared surprised at finding Harry still awake.

"Yes, I was just wondering if you would like company for the night." _'I don't want to sleep alone tonight,'_ was what he really mean, but he also knew that Draco didn't feel comfortable in sharing something so personal, at least for now, even if he was smart enough to tell that Harry saw right through his excuses.

"Yes, I would like that . . ."

They said no more – it was not necessary – while Draco got into bed and they laid down facing each other. They didn't touch each other even though they were inappropriately close.

Faster than they expected, they were both peacefully asleep.


	9. On the Hogwarts Express

**On the Hogwarts Express**

By Dani-ko

Beta'd by: MrsHellman

* * *

The morning of the first of September was cloudy and a bit chilly – making it perfect for the first day of school – though such thing could not be perceived at King's Cross station because the steam of the _Hogwarts Express_ was making the air hot and damp.

As they arrived at the Apparition point, Draco could be heard snorting and scowling, probably about what the humid air or something equally ridiculous, but the fact is he was just cranky for having to wake up too early – Narcissa was rolling her eyes in exasperation, while she broke through the crowd with the two boys in tow. Suddenly, she came to a halt and turned around to stand in front of Harry, a concerned look on her expression.

"What is it Mother?" Draco asked, sensing her anxiety. He looked past her to see what made her so worried and Harry saw his gray eyes widened in shock and then narrowed in anger. Harry tried to see what caused this reaction, but Narcissa was still shielding him from sight with her tall body.

"Damn it!"

"Language, dear," the blonde woman admonished, but it was half-hearted. "I reason we ought to wait for the Weasley family―"

"Narcissa, please, what's wrong?"

Instead of verbally answering Harry, she moved slightly to the side and Harry had a full view of the main platform. He froze and gaped. Those were reporters, he was sure of it;; dozens of men and women – from several nationalities by the looks of it – were nearly _camping_ by the entrance of the station. He could distinguish the ones from the _Daily Prophet_ by their clothes and it irked him beyond words.

He glared at them and drew his wand. Draco did the same, but he warned Harry that they could not attack the press. Narcissa's mind was reeling.

"I'll send a word to the manor's guards," she said at last. "They'll be here shortly, I'm su―"

"Harry Potter." A deep voice was heard and Harry turned to his side to see two Aurors as well as Bill, Charlie and George Weasley, approaching them. The Weasleys were smiling brightly. Harry returned the smile, feeling relieved.

"I can't even begin to tell you how happy I am to see you," Harry said, hugging Bill first and then Charlie, though much more enthusiastically; George's hug was quiet and meaningful, and everyone felt uncomfortable by it. Draco glared, and Narcissa smirked at her son's blunt display – well, the _bluntness_ of it was defined by Malfoy standards of course, since nobody else noticed anything wrong other than Malfoy being the spoiled brat that he was.

"Really, Harry, this was meant to happen," George said and Harry looked confused. What was going on?

"You've been able to hide from them all summer, but this is the place you'd be sure to be on the first of September," Bill elaborated and Harry blushed at his own straightforwardness. He hadn't thought about that.

"Honestly, Mr. Weasley," Narcissa intervened. "I believed that the Ministry would silence the press like they did all summer. Don't tell me it is not true, because Mr. Potter is not very subtle in his affairs." Bill blushed at being addressed as Mr. Weasley and also because – Harry suspected –Narcissa was a beautiful _blonde_ woman – and everybody knew how Bill felt about blondes.

"The Minister tried his best, but it couldn't last forever," the eldest red-head said, trying to keep his coolness. "And Kingsley already went out of his way to give Harry some time off, there was no way they would stop today."

"I concede to that point, Mr. Weasley," Narcissa said. "The first day of school is a great opportunity to find out the whereabouts of the Boy-Who-Lived."

"They want a piece of you," the second Weasley joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Clearly," Draco snapped, annoyed at such shameless flirtation. Poor Charlie didn't mean anything especial, but Draco's possessive streak was unforgivable, so Harry gave the blonde an odd look, but decided to shrug it off.

"So, where is the rest of your family?"

"We're here," said a male voice behind Harry and he turned around to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with Ron, Hermione and Ginny. The brunette threw herself at Harry for a tight hug that made him lose his balance.

"Honestly, Mione, we saw each other, what? A week ago?" Harry protested. She hit him in the back.

"Just humour me, alright?" Harry said nothing and hugged her back. Ever since the war, Hermione had been sensitive concerning good-byes. The eldest Weasleys smiled; Hermione and Harry were really cute when they were nothing but themselves around each other. When the two friends stepped aside, Draco insinuated himself in between them and placed his arm around Harry's shoulders. He wasn't jealous of Hermione, the girl was starting to grow on him and he enjoyed pushing her buttons.

"Yes, Potter, humour her or she will punch you," he drawled, sending a smug smirk at the girl. She narrowed his eyes.

"That really bothers you, doesn't it?" Draco blushed slightly, but didn't lose his aloofness.

"Yes, I was punched by a girl, who is a Gryffindor and a Mudblood, at that," the blonde said. "What do you think?" While most of the others frowned at Draco's snobby ways and Ron drew in a breath, Hermione just smirked. She was starting to understand Draco better.

"What does that say about you, Blondie?" It was Draco's turn to glare, but his lips were discreetly twitching upwards.

While Draco and Hermione bickered, Harry lost himself assessing the Weasley family. Mrs. Weasley looked tired, she had bags under her eyes, was awfully pale and was refusing to meet anyone's gaze; Mr. Weasley appeared to be overly cheerful to compensate for his wife, but he as well looked tired. Ginny seemed to have lost some of her glow, but like her father, she was determined in helping her family move on.

Ron was the one that concerned Harry, though; he looked very angry – with _everybody_, even Hermione. He was sending spiteful glances at Draco and Hermione who were chuckling together now – outright laughter would still take a while, especially for Draco – and earlier, when Harry had arrived, he looked at Harry as if the raven was betraying him in some way.

That was when Harry realised that he had been neglecting his relationship with Ron. How long ago was it when they had talked to each other like they used to? He had written to Hermione regularly because of Lucius' spell, but Ron had been mistreated all along. He couldn't believe he had forgotten about his friends now that he had Draco; he never thought he would be one of those blokes who leave his friends for a . . . a . . .

'_What?!_ _I didn't just think this!'_ He almost thought 'girlfriend'! Oh-my-god, oh-my-god, oh-my-god―

"Potter."

―First of all Draco was a boy; second he was a friend; and third Harry was not gay or bi for that matter! Was he? _'Oh, good Lord, this is just what I need,' _he thought sadly. If Draco knew he would freak out―

"Potter!"

"What?!" he snapped in the general direction of the calling. It was Draco and he looked mildly shocked at Harry's outburst.

"I have been calling you for a while," the blonde started, still surprised, his wide eyes and quite stiff face indicating that. Harry blushed and turned his full attention towards him, fighting the sudden heat when he reminded himself of his previous thoughts. Draco was really handsome and – _'Focus, Harry! God damn it!'_

"You looked like you were bothered by something, is everything alright?" Draco asked, but then, because he could not afford to look too concerned or Harry would give him that look again – the one that said 'You're-acting-oddly-since-you'res-actually-acting-like-a-human-being' – he added "We don't want you hurt yourself by thinking too hard." Harry smacked him in the arm. Hard. And damn if the blonde didn't deserve it.

"Mind your own business, Malfoy." _'Ouch! That hurt,_' Draco thought, but then again he was the one who started it.

Hermione – who had been ignored as soon as Draco saw Harry's expression change to a pained one – was looking at them as if they were morons. They had probably realised that they had a major crush on each other and now – _now!_ – is when it got awkward. Boys!

"Well, that's all fine, but I said to Luna I'd meet her at the train at ten-thirty and I'm late," Ginny protested.

"I guess we should depart here," Mr. Weasley suggested with a weak smile. "Then the boys can take you all to the train."

The Aurors Dis-Apparated their trunks to the Hogwarts Express luggage wagon and stood aside to let the families have their moments.

"Mr. Weasley is right," Narcissa agreed. "Boys," she called, and both Harry and Draco gave her full attention and even the Weasleys stood by to listen.

"Do you remember what I told you last night?" Narcissa asked them. They nodded, but Harry was smiling on the inside for being right about the departure speech. "Do not pick fights with the other houses, ignore personal attacks and do your best in your studies."

"Merlin, Mother, couldn't you have given us the abridged speech last night as well?"

"Draco, dear, do not test my patience," she replied dryly, but she was obviously amused. She straightened her posture and looked at them, showing off her impressive height – well, she was showing her Harry her impressive height, because Draco was taller than her – and gave them a long, lingering look. "Have fun, boys, there is nothing more for you to do this time."

They understood what Narcissa meant. She turned to Harry and gave him and shallow hug, but the emotions were running wild in her eyes; so empty most of the time, except when she wanted them to be expressive.

Harry had enough insight in the two blondes' relationship to understand that the Malfoys needed some time alone and left after that.

Both blondes moved to the side and out of hearing distance. Narcissa turned to her son and outstretched her hand, which he took and kissed deeply. They shared one last look and the blonde wizard turned first – with the excuse of fixing the hold he had on his hand bag – and cleared his throat.

"I'll write once a month as usual, Mother."

"Yes, dear, please do."

While the Malfoys were saying good-bye in their own aloof way, Harry joined his surrogate family, where Ron, Ginny and Hermione had already received bone-crushing hugs from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley was the first one to move, even if it was a bit awkward. She pulled Harry to her chest and held him close. Harry stood stiff in her embrace, not knowing what to do and because of his arms being locked against his sides.

"I'm so sorry, dear, so sorry," she whispered in his ear, feeling his discomfort. "Please, do not feel that you are not welcome in our house, because you are like a son to me and I never meant anything I said that day." Harry felt his throat constrict and he blinked the burning feeling in his eyes away.

"That's okay, Mrs. Weasley." She didn't believe him, but let it go.

Mr. Weasley took her place and pulled the boy in for a bear hug.

"I'm so very proud of you, Harry, I am," he said and it was noticeably appreciated for Harry to hear such a thing.

Draco and Narcissa joined them and the blonde teen frowned at Ron's insufferable expression. He always knew he was right in disliking the Weasel.

"Is it all set?" he asked, gently putting a hand on the end of Harry's back, trying to give him some support since the raven looked a bit overwhelmed amongst all those red-heads' emotions.

The Aurors and the Weasley siblings took their places, and as soon as they exited the Apparition point, hell broke loose. The flashes were blinding, people were yelling and calling for Harry and it was all very disturbing.

Draco never took his hand off Harry's back and the raven was so much grateful for that – especially because Draco was being as much in the middle of attention as Harry, but not for any good reasons; still, he never lowered his head nor flinched and looked weak in any way. Oh, how much Harry admired him. Apparently, the reporters could not get past a certain point and Hermione explained that there were wards that only allowed students and families to pass.

The teens waved one last time and headed for the train.

Draco guided them through the flock of students that stepped aside as soon as they saw who was demanding passage. They were scared of Draco, but they were mainly intimidated by Harry. They didn't know how to react and they didn't want to get on his bad side, so they simply stepped aside and let them pass.

They found an empty compartment soon enough and Draco opened the door and stepped aside to let Harry enter first.

Ron scowled and Hermione chuckled amusedly at their unconscious attentions. Ginny looked at Harry longingly, but shrugged it off – not before Hermione saw it and gave her an encouraging smile though. Ginny would be fine, she was never one to mourn over things that were never really hers to begin with. She bid them good-bye and went to find Luna Lovegood.

Draco pushed his shoulder bag under the seat and took the seat by the window. Harry sat next to him as Ron and Hermione took the places in front of them.

"Good Lord, that was unbelievable!" Draco exclaimed when the awkward silence threatened to stretch. Hermione chuckled – in relief and because of the truth in the sentence.

"Honestly, I ought to be used to it by now – being Harry's friend and all – but I'm not . . . It's ridiculous . . ." Harry smiled at their companionable conversation.

"_I'm_ not used to it and I'm the one they want, so―"

Harry didn't finish his sentence, because Neville Longbottom entered the compartment. The boy's grin faded very quickly at the sight of Draco Malfoy. He looked at the three Gryffindors in confusion.

"It's okay, Neville," Harry said, understanding his issues with a Slytherin being there – that Slytherin being Draco Malfoy nonetheless.

"You are aware that you're sitting next to Malfoy, right, Harry?" Neville asked warily. Draco finally lost his fight with his laughter. Hermione glared at him, but Harry smiled, too.

"Yes, Neville, I actually am." Used to odd things coming from Harry and being enough of a Gryffindor to accept Harry's choice of friends, Neville just accepted what was being told. He sighed though. It didn't mean he was comfortable around Draco's presence, but he would endure it . . . hopefully.

"Okay, then," he shrugged, and offered his outstretched hand to Draco Malfoy – and if someone had told him he would be doing this years ago he would have ran away screaming – and said loud and clear, his voice only broke once, "Neville L-Longbottom." Draco smirked and grumbled something about 'Crazy Gryffindors' and accepted Neville's hand.

"Draco Malfoy."

"For heaven's sake, you know each other for almost eight years now," exclaimed a girly voice from behind the slim form of Neville. The boy moved aside and all of them saw Ginny with her hands on her hips, looking positively like her a younger version of her mother. "I don't understand why you keep introducing yourselves," she finished, as she moved to sit beside Neville.

"It's because they are new people who don't know each other, so they have to introduce themselves again," drawled Luna Lovegood appearing at the door. "Harry. Draco," she greeted. Hermione and Neville stared at her but decided to ignore her typical eccentricity – and here they thought they were just being polite by introducing themselves officially . . . apparently not.

"Then why don't you introduce yourself?" Ginny asked Luna quite petulantly.

"I have already met them," the Ravenclaw answered and sat down beside Harry. She leaned in over Harry and looked at the other blonde. "I don't think you wish to speak of the past, but I want to say thank you." Draco appeared to understand, but neither of them elaborated.

Harry looked at Draco, confused. _'What was that about?'_ Draco just shook his head. _'I'll tell you later.'_

Hermione looked at her watch.

"We should be going, Draco," she reminded the blond. He nodded. Harry and Ron looked at them.

"Where to?" Ron asked, warily. Hermione sighed in exasperation at them.

"To the Perfect's wagon. As Head students, we have to give the Perfects their badges and explain their duties."

"I've always disliked that meeting," Harry complained with a sigh, while he tried to retrieve his Quidditch magazine from Draco's shoulder bag, without taking it out from under the seat. When he straighten up, the blonde was watching him amusedly – and a bit hungrily after seeing Harry's taut muscles show beneath the raven's un-tucked white shirt and grey Hogwarts' jumper, but _that_ Harry did not notice.

"Do you feel lonely?" Draco mocked. Harry glared.

"Don't get cocky," Harry threw back, pretending to focus on his magazine. "I've felt lonely during these train rides way before you came along with your dashing good looks." Neville choked on his own saliva and Ron glared at Harry. Draco blinked in surprise, but he soon recovered.

"Ah, ah! So you admit that I'm good looking," he taunted. Harry rolled his eyes, acting cool – or so he thought.

"Like you need me to tell you that," Harry said, again feigning interest in the magazine and blushing brightly when he realised what I gotten out of his mouth. He was only digging himself deeper down into the mess.

Draco smiled fondly – which made Neville cough harder and Ron get red from anger and embarrassment – and motioned to follow Hermione. It was true what Harry had said, Draco knew he was handsome, but having Harry – _Harry Potter!_ – say that, made him feel pretty good about himself and very warm and fuzzy on the inside, though he would never admit it out loud.

"Malfoy," Harry called, before he got out. "I," he hesitated and blushed. "I know we brought lunch, but do you want me to buy something from the lady?"

"Sure," Draco said with a smile. "Whatever you choose is fine by me," he couldn't help but to flirt a bit, especially if Harry was to look that adorable every time he did so. He exited the compartment and headed in the direction of the head of the train, humming happily along the way – and scaring poor Hufflepuffs to death with his happiness.

~*~

The landscape was changing before his eyes and it was getting more and more dreary.

Draco and Hermione had been gone for a long time now. It was shortly past lunch time and Harry had decided to wait for the blonde so that they could eat together; and because he was hungry, he was stuffing himself with chocolate frogs. In front of him, Ron had fallen asleep against the window and was grumbling from time to time. Neville had left shortly after the two Heads to find Dean and Seamus.

Harry was feeling pretty smart now. The fact that he realised that Ron was jealous of Draco was considered a great success. Since he had been the one to ignore his red-headed friend for most of the holidays, Harry reasoned that he should be the one to initiate a conversation and so he had.

For hours, they had been catching up and Harry even explained to Ron what he and Hermione were doing, not the details of course, but the generality of things – there was a dark spell and they were trying to come up with the counter-spell. Then they talked about Quidditch and girls – or better, Hermione and Draco – and much to Harry's annoyance, Ron too had been getting smarter.

He thought about the strange feelings he's felt during the part of the conversation where Hermione and Draco had been the topic . . .

"_I find it odd that when I talk about Mione you answer with something about Draco," Ron said. Harry blushed brightly and stammered an answer that neither Ron nor himself understood. Ron shook his head. "I hope you are not avoiding me because I hate him . . ."_

_Since Harry guessed that was exactly why, even if he had acted unconsciously, he just kept quiet. Ron sighed and let it go._

That was not the only thing that was strange with Ron, and Harry guessed that it had something to do with the death of his brother, but he did not push it. Ron was grieving too and as far as Harry knew he was a bit different from the other Weasley's; Ron liked to be left alone to deal with things in his own time.

Since Ron had fallen asleep Harry was, for every purpose, alone in the carriage, and thereby he was studying Hermione's notes.

After entertaining himself trying to read her tiny scrabbles, he finally got hold of some important things about her intellectual capacity; the spell itself and something that they might be missing. First, she ought to think about the people who are not as smart as her and start to write her personal notes in a more understandable fashion. The second thing was actually very important. If Voldemort was dead – and Harry had made sure that yes he was – where was the spell cast on his Death Eaters getting its power? Harry knew that when wizards die, their magic loses its strength. The curse had to be feeding on something and Harry had a good idea concerning what that could be. He needed to talk to Hermione about this first. If they found the source of the spell, she would stop trying to make him learn Latin.

If she insisted on finishing the spell, he had to tell her that something crucial about the whole thing, which brought up the third point; Voldemort would not make his traitors live in an illusion – as tortuous as it may be – he would physically torture them and _then_ murder them. Bellatrix was the sadistic bitch who liked mind torture, Voldemort was much simpler. Which meant that Lucius may be in deeper trouble than they thought . . .

Ron snored loudly and mumbled incoherencies.

Harry sniggered and looked out of the window again. He was a little bored and because of that he was feeling a little sleepy. He was restless as well. He missed Draco. It was _ridiculous_ because they had never seen or interacted with one another before and now he wanted the man next to him more than anything else. To make things even more ridiculous, Draco was only a few carriages away, but Harry was still feeling oppressed by the blonde's absence.

Reasoning that Draco and Hermione would take a while to get back, he transfigured one Chocolate Frog Card – with 'the-gods-know-who' in it – into a pillow and prepared to take a nap. He was stretching on the sheets when the door opened and the heavy feeling in his chest eased and gave place to a warm sensation that made him blush.

~*~

It didn't take long before Draco made his way to their compartment – Hermione was having a 'know-it-all' discussion with an annoying Ravenclaw Prefect – and was fighting the urge to run the remaining distance.

He was feeling anxious. He had noticed it a while back; when he was not with Harry, he would feel uneasy and restless. This was stupid, he knew, especially when the raven was only a few feet away. It was so damn _oppressing_ to be away from Harry.

He approached the door of the compartment and stopped. It saddened the blonde that Harry had felt the need to raise wards around the compartment, but he couldn't blame him since he would have done the same. He took his wand out and tapped it on the door which opened with a click. He pushed it open and his eyes immediately locked with Harry's.

The raven was preparing to take a nap, but froze mid-action.

They stared at each other in frozen shock and awkwardness, neither knowing exactly what to say. They obviously hadn't expected to be alone with each other after their little private anxiety attack.

Draco gazed at Harry for a while, relishing his tender feelings for the raven. It annoyed him how possessive and needy he was becoming regarding Harry, it was not his usual behaviour, and when Harry unintentionally reminded him of that by putting a stop to his attentions or looking oddly at him, it disappointed him beyond words.

"Hi," Harry finally greeted, blushing a little when he thought that Draco looked really pretty all flustered like that. Draco swallowed thickly and squashed the need to jump the other male into a puddle of nothingness.

"Hi, have you already had lunch?" Draco asked, nudging Harry to move from the window – after all, it was Draco's seat.

"No, I was waiting for you. Where's Hermione?" Harry asked, taking Draco's shoulder bag to fetch their sandwiches.

"Dealing with some Ravenclaw geek," the blonde mocked.

"Should we wait for her?"

"She said not to," was the blonde's response.

They ate in silence and peaceful companionship, but Draco was feeling the need to _do_ something and pull Harry to lean against his chest. He didn't, of course, but then he almost fell from the seat with shock when Harry leaned against his side of his own volition. He tensed but relaxed almost immediately and finished his lunch in peace.

They cleaned up afterwards, making sure that all the rubbish were in a bag on the side, but Harry did not move and Draco sneaked his arm around Harry's waist and held him closer. Both Harry and Draco decided not to put much thought into that because blushing ten days until Sunday along with awkward stammering – or the equivalent in Malfoy upbringing – would probably be a major turn off.

They cuddled together and ate chocolate frogs – after some teasing from Harry's side that Draco only defended healthy habits when it suited him.

Harry finally made peace with the fact – a quite biased fact that was simply a manifestation of Harry's denial – that Draco was a genderless friend like Hermione and thus it was okay to cuddle with him, even if he had never done such a thing with Ron, Neville or George. The only thing his conclusion did not explain was why Harry was overly conscious of his own sexuality when the blonde was close, but Harry decided to give _that_ some thought much, much later.

"I can't believe this!" the blond exclaimed after unwrapping his first frog. Harry turned his head to the side to see what had bothered the blonde.

"What?"

Draco showed him the card. It read in bright red letters at the top 'Harry Potter' and a raven boy with round glasses and a stupid scar smiled shyly at Harry.

They looked at each other and burst out laughing at the irony . . . and that was when Hermione re-entered the compartment. They were still giggling – well, Harry was, Draco was smothering his giggles with his hand and trying to look casual – while she took in the scene in front of her.

Hermione smiled at their embarrassment and shook her head. Boys!

~*~

The sky was getting darker, giving the indication that they were almost at Hogsmeade.

Hermione was reading a book and had her feet propped on Ron's lap. Ron was still grouchy from being confined to such a tiny space with none other than Malfoy; he had his arms crossed over his chest and occasionally muttered incoherent words under his breath. Hermione just rolled her eyes every time he did so.

While Draco was finding all of this very amusing, he was more conscious of Harry though, who was sleeping on top of him. The blonde had been reading Harry's magazine when he noticed that Harry had been far too quiet for some time and looked down to see the raven sleeping peacefully against his chest. He had moved him until Harry lay in a more comfortable position; thus, their current predicament. Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes trying to reign over his emotions. Harry was just too endearing.

"Everything alright?" Hermione asked, with a pleased glint in her eyes. Draco had sighed rather profoundly after looking at Harry like a lovesick puppy. He gave her a nonchalant shrug and scrunched his nose.

"Yes, of course. You?" She chuckled.

"Yes, I'm fine too, thanks for asking," the girl replied amused. Ron looked confused.

"Did I miss something?" Hermione just shook her head and gave Ron a peck on the cheek. The red-head blushed brightly and motioning his head to the side and – making a gesture towards Draco – he whined, "Hermione, not here." It was Draco's turn to chuckle.

The raven in his arms moved a little. Draco brought a hand to the small raven's shoulder and let it rest there when he wanted nothing more than run it through the ebony locks. But while Harry was comfortable with some friendly cuddling, Draco didn't think it was wise to push things further too fast . . . further to where, was something that he was yet to decide―

"Draco," someone called from the door. The blonde looked up to see Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott standing at the door with a very unfriendly look on their faces. Theo looked even a bit disgusted at seeing the position he was in with Harry.

"What do you two want?" Draco drawled, coldly. "Last time we spoke you were very eloquent in telling me what you think of me." Harry stirred in his sleep catching the attention of the five people on the compartment; Draco kept his hands on the smaller body regardless.

"And that hasn't change, believe me," Theo scoffed in the end. Hermione closed her book and settled it on her lap, while she sat up, straightening her spine. Ron uncrossed his arms. Both of them got ready for the impending attack.

"What the hell have you done to Potter, Draco?" Blaise asked calmly. Draco bristled, unable to believe in the audacity of those two lowly Slytherins. "You have brought enough shame to our house; we won't allow you to do that anymore."

"Oh, and pray tell, Blaise, what do you intend on doing?" Draco sneered, being just as discourteous as the other Slytherin.

"We own you nothing, Draco," answered Theo. "_I_ own you nothing, your family has fallen and I do not intend on doing your biddings anymore. If you insist on keeping your allegiances on the losing side, we will stop you―"

Harry chose that exact moment to wake up. The three Slytherins looked at him and studied his every move. Harry took a few moments to gather his wits, but then he rolled his eyes.

"For heaven's sake, now what?" the raven demanded calmly and with no patience.

Blaise and Theo raised their wands. Immediately, Harry, Hermione and Ron sprang to action and the two Slytherins had three wands aimed at their chests. Theo and Blaise lowered their wands . . . but the Slytherin slyness was underestimated; when the Gryffindors were doing the same, Theo aimed his wand at Harry, Draco tried to shield Harry, but Theo was fast―

"Finite Incantatem!"

Nothing happened.

The teens stood there looking at each other, trying to decide what to make of Theo's choice of spell. Blaise didn't seem surprised. Theo looked at his friend.

"He is not under the Imperius Curse," he said and Blaise nodded his agreement.

"A potion, maybe?" he suggested. "Draco was always good with those."

"By Slytherin, I did not do anything to Harry _bloody_ Potter!" Draco exclaimed, finally snapping. Harry protested 'Hey!' but everyone ignored him. The raven turned his attention to the outsiders.

"Draco didn't really do anything," Harry assured. "I can throw off the Imperius Curse and I haven't eaten anything that he hasn't eaten as well during the whole summer." Blaise and Theo looked like they didn't know what to do with that information.

"But you hate him," Blaise reasoned with a frown.

"Welcome to my world," Ron grumbled. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and the red-head winced while the two Slytherins by the door couldn't help but smirk; served the blood-traitor right.

"Harry and Draco became friends during the holidays," the girl explained. "They have been hanging out together since May." The Slytherins looked confused.

"And are you sure that he hasn't done anything to Potter?"

"Of course not!" Ron intervened. "Harry could kick his ass any day of the week." Draco protested with a very childish 'Could not!' but nobody paid him any attention. "Besides, Harry has been staying at the Malfoy Manor and―"

"You let the little lion into the snake's pit?!" This time, even Blaise looked at Theo oddly, silently questioning what the hell that was. The boy grimaced and shrugged.

"Look, he's fine," Ron said one more time and slowly to see if the Slytherins finally understood. "He has to improve his taste in friends, but other than that . . ." he shrugged as well.

Draco wanted to remind Ron that he was Harry's friend too and that Draco absolutely agreed with him on the fact that Harry had poor taste in friends if one considered the red-head, but one stern look from Harry and he wisely shut up.

While Ron bickered with Theo about some version of the Slytherins-versus-Gryffindor eternal debate, and Blaise gave Draco and Harry a wary look, Hermione's mind was reeling. Now that she thought about it, there _was_ something odd about the whole relationship. She had to agree that they did look sincere in their feelings, but that meant nothing; she would wait and see if there was anything unusual about Harry's behaviour from now on.

"Look, if you are relatively done with your bickering, you could get out and let us enjoy the last moments of the journey in peace," Draco suggested in a self-aggrandizing way. Blaise and Theo glared.

"We are watching you," Theo reminded him, but they left right away, leaving the other four teens uncomfortable with the whole ordeal.

Eventually, they relaxed again.

"Seriously, Nott is weird," Ron commented, after a moment or two.

"You have no idea how, Weasel," Draco sighed. "There was this one time―"

They never knew what happened that time, because the train came to a halt in that moment – ruining one of the few chances of peace between Draco and Ron, Harry thought.

Hermione motioned them to dress their robes quickly and then they left the train.

*

_They have returned to this blasphemous place, where the greatest wizard who walked this earth perished._

_I'm still free and I suspect that nobody is looking for me . . . the arrogance of the Light kills me. They give no importance to my threat and dismiss as petty revenge of a lowly dark servant._

_Simpleton fools._

_The Malfoys will die by my hand, I swear._

_Dear Narcissa will lose everything she has left – it's only fair since her betrayal caused me the loss of everything I had. And Potter . . . ah, he won't live without his other half, now will he?_

_Ah, how I wish my Lord was here to see my brilliant revenge on them! He would be so proud! _


	10. The Sorting Ceremony

**The Sorting Ceremony**

By: Dani-ko

Beta: MrsHellman

* * *

The Great Hall looked like it always had.

The four Houses' banners still wavered without wind, the Head Table was set for the teachers and hundreds of students were making their way to their respective table. Diligent educators waited for the children to occupy their places with indulgent smiles on their faces. There was no sky, though. It was just a normal ceiling and it was ridiculous, but it was that which bothered Harry more than any of the other things in the Hall. The absence of the sky sort of remembered them all of the people they had lost – it reminded Harry of Dumbledore. Faceless students were a mourned loss, but Dumbledore . . . Harry shook his head . . . it hurt.

"Potter," Draco drawled behind Harry. "You've been standing in the doorway for about five minutes, and as much as people would not lift a finger against you, I'm kind of an open target in here and I believe I saw some Gryffindors draw their wands―"

"What?" Harry interrupted. Draco was not making much sense, anyway. The blonde seemed to understand that his remarkably amusing humour was falling into deaf ears, because he rephrased his advice.

"Potter, we _have_ to sit down," he stressed. Harry looked at him and nodded; he motioned to the Gryffindor table, but a hand on his elbow stopped him. He looked up to see Draco's concerned face hovering a short distance from his own. "Are you alright?" Harry gave him a weak smile.

"It's just very weird," he explained. Draco nodded in agreement. There were frantic movements around them, from students running to meet each other and friends looking for one another. They were ignored as all of this occurred.

"Still, we have to sit," Draco said, but he seemed reluctant to do so. "See you after dinner?"

"Yes, please. Wait for me at the door, okay?"

"Hmm-um," the blond agreed as he smirked. "Or you wait for me. I still believe I'm going to get out of here in a stretcher." Harry chuckled and smacked him lightly on the arm.

"Don't jinx it!" he joked and Draco laughed.

"Right, but if someone attacks me, you have to defend my honour."

"Deal," Harry agreed half-heartedly, while rolling his eyes in exasperation. They sobered rather quickly though when their surroundings caught up with them. "Right, I'm going now," the raven mumbled and using all of his Gryffindor courage, he kept on walking through the gaping crowd.

Draco stood there watching him for a moment, before turning around and striding to the Slytherin table. He sat down next to Blaise, who was in front of Theo. To his left side, all the seats were free to receive the new students. Draco wondered if he could frighten them into returning home that very same night, but he suspected that Harry and Granger would not approve of it.

"Draco, is it just me or you have a crush on the little lion?" Theo asked and Draco jumped startled at being addressed so abruptly. Then he processed the question and it took all of his pureblood genes to stop him from shying away from the question due to embarrassment.

"Bugger off, Theo!" he hissed calmly, deciding that it was a much more elegant way to dismiss the subject than sputter nonsense and blush brightly. Theo chuckled. Even if in the latest years they had been in opposite sides of the war, they had been friends since childhood and Theo still knew Draco very well.

"I always knew you were a feline in heart," the brown-haired boy continued as if Draco hadn't spoken. "You were always too pretty to be a reptile."

"I think Potter is a kitten," Blaise said, pretending to be thinking about it and then he smirked. "What did you do to get him on _top_ of you like he was on the train?" Draco saw red at the innuendo and at the accusation that he had tricked Harry into something.

"Talk about him like that again, Zabini and you will regret it," Draco snarled with as much detachment as he could muster – which was close to none. Theo and Blaise looked slightly thrown off balance at Draco's fierce possessiveness – very out of character for the cold Slytherin – but then smiled meaningfully at each other and _high-five_'d. Understanding that he had given them the assurance they wanted, Draco glared and the other two laughed harder. "I hate you."

"But you're better off with us than with Pansy and that brainless pair," Theo retorted right away, still shaking with laughter.

To that, Draco had no answer. Theo had been unstoppable trying to convince Draco that he would side with the Dark side when the time came, but Draco hadn't listened. While Theo never cared for his father's pride, Draco did . . . and what had that got him? Hateful stares and sneering comments. Even Blaise, who was a discriminatory tyrant, had been against the genocide that the Dark Lord had brought. Of course that, to the Malfoys, the prospect of power had been too great to ignore. A mistake they would carry with them forever.

"Yes, I guess I am," the blonde said, at last. "And sometimes, Harry really is a kitten," he added, smirking amiably. The three of them exchanged knowing glances. Then, Theo sobered.

"I meant what I said, Draco," he assured. "No more schemes, because we won't cover you for them―"

"Like _he_," he pointed Harry with his head, "would allow me to get very far if I had something on my sleeve," Draco retorted, bitterly – too bitterly for Theo and Blaise to ignore.

"Why, Draco, I believe love has changed you," Theo said, in mock dramatics and Draco smirked.

"No, it just re-sorted my priorities," the blonde mused aloud. Theo and Blaise blinked; neither had expected Draco to be so blunt about his liaison to the other boy.

"He's straight?" Blaise asked, accurately interpreting Draco's bitterness. The blonde nodded as a response, but Theo waved his hand.

"Of course he's not," he told them. Seeing their doubtful expressions, the boy elaborated. "At least, not completely; no straight man would cuddle with another man like he was cuddling with you, Blondie. Maybe the most confident and sensitive of us can hug and even walk with our arms around each other some from reason, but cuddle? I doubt it and I'm willing to bet my collection of stamps on it," he finished triumphantly.

"Theo, darling; nobody wants your collection of stamps," Blaise reminded him, gently. Theo moved away from the dark-skinned wizard.

"Do not call me darling, it freaks me out," he replied warily. Draco laughed and soon the other two joined him.

"So, Draco, how do you plan to persuade him?" Blaise asked. Draco shrugged.

"I don't want to risk his friendship," he explained.

After a lot of '_Aww_'s from Theo, Blaise finally manage to coerce Draco into accepting their help. They started to plot happily and Draco was feeling pretty good to just listen to his _friends_.

~*~

Harry reached the Gryffindor table – by dodging gawking students – and sat himself down on the right side of Hermione; Ron and Neville sat in front of them, respectively. Ginny was sitting on Harry's right side, trying to make Dean Thomas leave her alone, but the boy was insistent in his attentions. Unable to help himself, the raven gazed at the Slytherin table.

Draco was sitting right in front of him. The blond chose that exact moment to look up; their eyes locked and the blonde raised a hand at Harry, flashing him a very small smile. Harry blushed brightly and cleared his throat to dismiss the embarrassment of getting this flushed – and thrilled – when Draco smiled just for him; he returned the gesture. Draco let his gaze linger for a moment, but then looked away and continued his conversation with Nott and Zabini.

Harry felt a pang of jealousy shot through him and it was with annoyance that he let his mind wander back to his earlier issues – Draco and Harry's possible crush on him. Well, truth be told, the concept of being with a boy in a romantic fashion did not bother him – after all, the Dursleys always claimed proudly to be homophobes, so Harry reasoned that if they were against it, it was probably okay. Although Harry had to agree that he had never ever looked at a boy in a less than platonic way; not only had he been too busy to truly explore his sexuality, as – let's face it – being with a girl was far easier, since heterosexual women were more abundant than homosexual men. In fact, if he did like Draco, it would arouse many issues regarding the blonde and the nature of their relationship.

Harry fought back a frustrated groan and his attention was brought back towards his friends by the sound of Hermione's voice. Apparently, his housemates were having a very stimulating conversation over the fact that Tonks was their new Transfiguration teacher. Harry frowned; that was news to him. As a reflex, he gazed up at the Head Table and, sure enough, there they were; Tonks and Remus, Transfiguration and DADA teachers, respectively.

"She _is_ a Metamorphmagus after all," Seamus was saying. "I reckon she will know what she's talking about."

"It's going to be so cool," Ron put in, excitedly; he had always liked Tonks a lot. Ginny nodded enthusiastically, while Hermione just smiled scornfully at their antics.

Once the newlywed couple noticed Harry's surprised gaze, they waved at him, amused at his lack of attention. Well, Remus was amused by other things as well, such as the fact that Harry was sending longing glances towards the Slytherin table, when he thought that nobody was looking – which gave the werewolf a very accurate idea on what was happening between both boys. Perhaps, he ought to have a serious conversation with Harry.

Professor McGonagall, the new Headmistress, stood up and, immediately, silence fell over the Great Hall. It was far from being the devoted respect people had had for Dumbledore, but she was – without a doubt – someone the students appreciated and trusted very much.

"Welcome, dear students, to another year at Hogwarts," she began sombrely, "Although before we indulge ourselves in some well-deserved idleness, I would like to say a few words." McGonagall cleared her throat and Harry realised that this would be a difficult subject for her. "We lost another Headmaster in a span of a two year period. I'm sure you all remember Professor Snape―"

'_Big understatement,'_ Harry thought bitterly.

"―he was not understood or cared for by most of you, but he was a hero nonetheless and he did his best to protect the students during the previous year. I must confess myself as wrong, as many of you and – even though it's not enough – I find myself regretting many of the things I did and said to him. We all ought to learn from our mistakes and not to judge someone when it's not our place to do so." Her voice broke and she looked down to gather her strength once more. "I was preceded to this position by two brave and brilliant men and I can only hope I can be at their level in taking care of Hogwarts," she paused, "I expect you to trust me and I shall do my best to assure that your magical and personal education give you good support for your future life."

The student body broke into applause as everyone saw McGonagall briskly clean her tears to her napkin. She smiled reassuringly at them.

"It must be overwhelming for her to be sitting in that seat," Hermione whispered in Harry's hear.

"Yeah," he agreed and returned his gaze at his old Transfiguration teacher; because she was more than just worthy of his respect and admiration, for someone so old and so strict, Minerva McGonagall was a frightening warrior and a powerful ally, and Harry would never forget that.

"All of you know what we've been up against," the Headmistress continued. That was when Harry realised why she was giving her speech before the sorting: she did not wish for the Muggleborn to be given biased versions of last year's events, without pleading first to their sense of fairness. "It was trying and certainly there were moments of despair, but we triumphed and, from here on, we shall build our future together. Thank you." This time the applause was thunderous. Harry shared a meaningful smile with Hermione. Neither notice Ron's glare.

The Headmistress then introduced the new members of the staff and demanded a standing ovation for their new teachers, who were nothing apart from war heroes; even Hagrid got one. Nobody would forget the fierceness Hagrid fought with for Hogwarts and to protect its students. At last, she gestured to the little man by her side and addressed her students.

"May the sorting begin," she said.

Professor Flitwick, as the Deputy Headmaster, brought the Sorting Hat and, drawing his wand, conjured a three legged bench; waving his hands excitedly, much to the amusement of the other students and teachers, he managed to make himself heard and lined up the first-year students, all pale and fidgety, expecting to be fighting Trolls and answering strange quizzes. Every year they fell for the same stories. One could easily guess who the Muggleborn were by the frightened glances they were throwing at the little teacher.

The Sorting Hat began his song. It spoke of unity and forgiveness and of how Hogwarts should and would not be tarnished with hatred and prejudice. It spoke of the Houses' qualities and defects and how they compensate each other's flaws. It reminded Harry of the first song he heard and that soothed him somehow.

The first student to be sorted belonged to Hufflepuff. The standard applause and cheering followed the girl as she motioned to her table. Immediately, the Perfects introduced themselves and made her feel at home. The second one was a strawberry blonde girl, with hazelnut-coloured eyes; she stood up straight and reached for the Hat proudly and confidently, walking briskly until she stood in front of the room, sat down in the bench and put the Hat on her head. It took a moment, the girl bit her lip nervously and the moment stretched longer―

"Slytherin!" the Hat shouted at last.

'_Well, obviously,'_ Harry thought. He began to applaud – a bit half-heartedly, because his mind was still locked on the blonde belonging to that same House – until he saw the pretty girl flinch, blanch and she seemed to shrink in her shoes; she moved quickly to her new House table. Harry frowned in confusion, until he let his mind focus on his surroundings . . . the other three Houses were jeering at the poor girl!

Shock struck him speechless at this atrocious display happening in his beloved sanctuary, even after McGonagall's words and the Hat's song. The hypocrisy of it all revolted him. The young girl, Victoria Daniels, practically ran the rest of the path to her table. Harry looked up at the Slytherin table and saw the proud people hunched and looking at each other understandingly; Harry could not believe that the Slytherins, who were up against all the three other Houses so often, had taken the blow silently this time.

"They are just children, Harry," Hermione said when she notice Harry's angered expression.

Draco patted Victoria's head gently when she sat in front of him and spoke encouraging words to her. Suddenly, Harry felt a rush of pride for letting go of his prejudice towards Slytherin and for being considered a friend by such a person; he smiled proudly. Right or wrong, Slytherins protected their own.

"So were we, Mione," Ron replied, with a sickened scowl upon his face as he looked at his classmates. Neville agreed with them as well. Hermione sighed, knowing she would never make them understand. Then the noise subsided.

At the Head Table, the teachers stood stiff and, while some of them looked disapprovingly at their students, others smiled sadly, knowing that this hatred was not their creation, but their born from the suffering and despair of the previous year. These public displays of hatred and prejudice had happen in the Wiz. War I, as well. Not one of the teens noticed their teachers' reactions, so lost they were discriminating one another.

Harry hated it. It was against everything he had fought for, against everything his friends had died for.

McGonagall signalled Flitwick to stop the sorting. The third student froze mid-step, looking at everyone with undisguised curiosity and his mouth slightly agape; he obliviously did not understand what was happening. Muggleborn he was, then . . . and judging by his lack of tact, probably a Gryffindor. The Headmistress stood up with her face being unreadable.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began in that strict, dry tone of hers, with her lips pinched together and a disapproving stare focussed on the students. "This occurrence will not repeat itself," she stated firmly. The students grumbled, but everyone knew they would not defy the Headmistress.

Flitwick motioned the boy next to him to take the seat and be sorted. Sure enough, as soon as the Hat touched the boy's head, it shouted the expected result.

"Gryffindor!" Harry applauded and cheered with his housemates, but refrained from greeting the new student, since he would probably be updated about Harry's identity soon enough.

The following boy was deemed to be a Slytherin. Even though nobody jeered at him, nobody applauded as well; the Slytherin boy, William Mewridge, glared at his classmates and strode proudly to his table. Harry felt sorry for the boy – entering Hogwarts was a unique experience and missing the wonder of the sorting was unacceptable. He bit his lower lip; he wanted to applaud the boy, but if he did, all the attentions would focus once again on him and he had been trying to avoid that. Begrudgingly, he made his decision.

Swiftly and loudly, Harry pushed the bench back and stood up; he walked around his table, moving towards the other side of the Great Hall, towards the Slytherin table. Silence reigned over. Harry ignored it and kept walking, hands balled into fists and moving in a steady stride, glaring at everyone who dared to look at him questioningly . . . he felt his stomach lurch at the look of pure delight in Draco's eyes as he approached the end of the table; he slumped himself in the seat next to Draco.

All the Slytherins were looking at him aghast and he didn't dare to look up at the rest of the students, let alone any of the teachers. The silence had given place to harried chatter.

"Potter," Draco said softly. Harry refused to meet his eyes and fought down the blush that was spreading through his cheeks.

"You asked me to defend your honour, right?" Harry replied hesitantly. Draco's eyes glinted with pleasure; he had hoped Harry would take the Slytherins' side over the rest of the school, but he had to convey that having Harry taking _Draco_'s side over the rest of the school was something taken from his wildest dreams. The two first-years sat in front of them, poorly concealing their interest in the interaction between the two wizards.

"Indeed I did," Draco conceded, still in a blissful haze, where only Harry mattered. "Though I did not expect you to actually mount that white charge of yours and―"

"Aww!" Theo interrupted, cooing girlishly as Blaise rolled his eyes. "Did you hear that Blaise? _Maid_ Draco is showing his appreciation to his 'knight-in-a-shinning-armour'."

"Why don't you mind your own business, Nott?" Harry snapped, turning fiery eyes at the teen and leaning over Draco to hiss at Theo; who did Nott think he was, talking about Draco and Harry as he saw fit? Draco felt himself grown hot at Harry's possessive display; he placed his hand in the end of Harry's back and the raven-haired teen leaned back, somehow calmer and cooler. Suddenly, Theo looked like a child in a candy store.

"Oh, my goodness!" he exclaimed, delighted. "So much lov―"

"Nott!"

"Theo!"

They stared at each other for a moment – Theo doing so quite eagerly. Draco cleared his throat, shook his head apologetically and then ignored the brunette. Harry turned away, trying to hide his twitching mouth and the embarrassing blush that had taken place on his face lastingly – if only Draco moved that damned hand . . .

Both Harry and Draco leaned back in their seats, and neither notice when Blaise mouthed _'kitten'_ to Theo; they grinned not-so-apologetically at Draco – who glared warningly in return, knowing full well that it could not be good. Blaise chuckled and Theo joined him shortly after, _high-five_'ing above the table.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the two first years look at him as if they wanted to say something; he decided to indulge them – and distract himself from the elegant hand that was drawing calming circles just above his . . . _well_, one can get the picture knowing just that.

"Yes?" he drawled, shifting his gaze to the two pre-teens. The boy bit his lip, assessing what he was about to say next.

"Is your presence r-required because we're Slytherins?"

For a moment there, Harry had a déjà-vu of a younger Draco Malfoy saying _"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort."_ He cleared his throat and decided to answer, because he could tell that the boy was not mocking him – even if William was trying to appear aloof, his eyes were betraying him and he _had_ choked on his words.

"Of course not," he retorted, snappishly. "That's silly. I just don't think it's fair that they—" he gestured to the rest of the Hall, "—are prejudicing you for something you didn't do."

"What he means," Draco interrupted, playing with his fork nonchalantly, "is that he is here because he likes me." Even blushing ten shades of red, Harry managed to muster a glare – all and all, he was proud of himself for that. Then, he faced the two first-years again.

"Malfoy is being stupid," Harry replied, talking more for the blonde than for anyone else. "But the fact is that Hogwarts would not have let you come here if it had sensed any ill-intention in you." During his speech, he could not help but to glance at Draco, who _hmm_'ed embarrassingly in return. Harry had no scientific base to affirm that, though he knew it was true. "Which means these people are stupid," he continued and his dashing eyes glared around at his classmates. "Who do they think they are, making people feel bad about themselves?" By now, he was talking more to himself than to others.

"They lost people they cared about, while fighting by your side, Harry," Draco reminded him, coolly. Neither Theo nor Blaise intervened, since they understood the importance of what was being discussed, and let the others talk freely about the subject.

"Then, they should know that not a single one of the people present here was fighting on the other side―" he interrupted himself abruptly, realising that he was missing an important point. Draco had been _there,_ fighting for the Dark side. The blonde tensed and drew back, almost immediately.

"Malfoy was with _him_, wasn't he?" William asked, paling slightly. Victoria was listening carefully. The seven-years' silence was an answer in itself. Harry looked at them fully in the eyes.

"As for the ones left, I'm ready to stand up for them," Harry told them, successfully ending the subject – or so he thought.

"I appreciate it, Potter," Draco replied and it meant more than just the honest significance of the words; it hinted at absolution.

An awkward silence fell among them―

"Harry Potter, Harry Potter!" came the shrieking voice of another pre-teen, this one a brunette with brown eyes, who had just been sorted into Slytherin. The girl appeared to realise that her behaviour was very unbecoming because she paused, collected herself and sat down beside Harry, turning curious eyes towards the raven. "Is it true that you fought a Basilisk when you were only twelve?" Harry's eyes widened in surprise – at least, she broke the uncomfortable mood.

"How do you know―" he stopped and took a deep breath, successfully stopping himself from lashing at her. "Yes, in the Chamber of Secrets," he answered, then narrowed his eyes at the brunette. "How do you know about that?" Jane Morrison, that was her name, had enough hindsight to blush and look embarrassed.

"It's in your biography," she replied. Now, Harry was pretty sure he had not published his biography or sold his rights to any author. "It's called 'Our Golden Hero' and it's a collectable article from _Witch_ _Weekly_." The raven-haired teen glanced at the Gryffindor table, searching for Hermione, but she was busy whispering hurriedly at Ron, probably placating the consequences of Harry's impulsive action . . . _again_. Planning on speaking with her later on, he returned his attention to the Slytherins.

"Rita Skeeter is the author, isn't she?" Jane's eyes widened in wonder. Draco and Blaise scowled at the worshipping girl, while Theo nagged about something stupid.

"Are you a Legilimens?" she asked fearfully. Harry rolled his eyes.

"No, I just know that – er, lady – too well."

"Why do I get the feeling she will regret messing with you, Potter?" the blonde asked and Harry grinned at him, amused by Draco's wariness.

"Not with me," Harry explained, "but with Mione."

"She has a nasty right hook," Theo reminded them, shuddering, not as much as Draco did though.

"Poor Rita," Blaise said airily and took a piece of bread from the basket that filled with food in that moment.

~*~

After the Welcoming Fest, Harry and Draco lingered outside the Great Hall, even after most of the students being already gone.

"So," Draco started, pulling Harry to the side by the wrist and standing right in front of him, aligning his body with Harry's. There was something fierce shinning in Draco's eyes – just like when he used to challenge Harry in their early years – as if he was gathering his courage and letting go of his inborn caution to do something he might regret, but was willing to take the risk.

"So?" Harry prompted, looking up at the blonde and Draco took a deep breath.

"Thank you, Harry," he said simply, "It means more to me than you'll ever know, what you did in there. You stood up for me as well as the rest of the students in Slytherin, but you also showed the people in there that you don't care about prejudice." Harry smiled gently; he had never thought he was capable of showing such tenderness when dealing with someone – anyone – he cared for; he buried his hands inside his pockets in an attempt to keep them to himself.

"That's okay," he replied and looked out of the window – anywhere but the blonde's unguarded gray eyes. "That's what friends do."

Draco chose not to answer and moved closer to the younger teen; Harry did not move back and they stood so close to each other that they could feel each other's body heat. Green eyes looked up at Draco and the blonde's breath caught in his throat at such dashing sight; he wanted to be closer. He put his hands on Harry's shoulders and squeezed lightly, as if asking permission to move on. Harry tensed up, but he did not move and his cheeks tinged pink. That was an invitation if one was ever issued.

Draco ignored the cautious voice in his head that told him not to push it and swiftly pulled Harry against his chest, holding him as close as he could; two strong arms shot forward and encircled his waist, as Harry returned the embrace, resting his chin on the blonde's shoulder, deepening the contact. While they tensed awkwardly at first, soon enough their bodies relaxed and they melted into each other, just standing there.

For the second time in his life, Harry felt the time diffuse and lost meaning. It may have been a few minutes or several days full of happiness as they embraced, since such things as time didn't matter in each other's arms. Both boys felt a deep, intrinsic satisfaction by touching the other, the yearning that had been present in the back of their hearts since their stay at Hog's Head Inn was almost satiated. They could feel magic soaring in the empty hall of the castle as the ritual was finally completed.

Neither realised what that meant.

Finally, they pulled apart, with pink cheeks and shiny eyes. They smiled at each other and their smile was the smile of lovers.

"You really are thankful," Harry comment, more to disband the self-consciousness that came upon them as Harry's mind caught up with his body; as he actually believed it was all appreciation.

"No, I just like touching you," Draco replied in a haze – his mind caught up with his mouth and he snapped it shut. They stared at each other in shocked stillness, until Draco moved. He wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders and hugged him again. "It feels good to touch someone just for the pleasure of it, doesn't it?" Harry hesitantly reached forward again to return the touch.

"I'd never hugged anyone before Hogwarts and for a long time it was only Hermione who did it," Harry confessed. The blonde nodded and slowly massaged the raven's shoulders. Then, he did something that neither expected him to do―

Draco pressed his lips against Harry's forehead.

Two sets of eyes drifted closed at the contact. It was so much more intimate than the moments when they had held each other before, because it meant a whole new set of things. They could smell each other; feel the heat of each other's body, soft skin and firm muscles under their hands. It was nothing like holding a girl and later they would frown in confusion as to why such comparison was even made. They pulled apart.

Harry's forehead was burning where Draco's lips had touched, his eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply. Draco couldn't help but to lick his lips at the look of pure delight in Harry's features; he could guess he looked about the same. At last, dark lashes fluttered open and the green eyes widened in surprise as reality hit Harry.

"I―" Harry began, then interrupted himself when he realised that he didn't quite know what to say.

"Yes, we should go to bed," Draco suggested, since he also didn't know what to do. With a last squeeze on Harry's shoulders, both teens moved apart and motioned to opposite sides of the castle.

~*~

Harry walked dreamily to the Gryffindor Tower; he took his usual path and trusted his feet to take him there, while he let his mind wander through the night's events.

As he was passing an old Charms classroom, he registered some angry voices coming from the inside. Dismissing it as a lovers' quarrel, he motioned to continue his path, but something in his mind was telling him to stop and listen. That's when he noticed that he knew those voices much too well, since they belonged to his two best friends. He thought that he probably should leave Ron and Hermione to sort out whatever issues they were having, when his own name sounded in the hallway.

Harry approached the room, intending on preventing Ron from saying something he would regret later, only to stop in the doorway as something in his oldest friend's voice made him sound so broken that it touched Harry deeply.

"I understand, Ron―"

Harry moved further into the room and hid in the shadows. He could see Ron pacing back and forth in front of the teacher's desk, while Hermione sat in the front desk, twisting her hands in her lap, obviously anguished by her boyfriend behaviour. Ron sounded so angry, so hurt and so lost that Harry found himself at a loss of what to do, so he decided to listen further. The red-headed stopped in front of the girl and turned his angry eyes at her.

"No, you don't!" he interrupted abruptly. "Nobody does. Harry likes you, he wrote to you in the summer, he trusts you always, and he tells you everything! Where do that leave me!?"

"Ron, Harry would never replace you with Malfoy―"

"It sure doesn't look like it!" Ron resumed his pacing, running a hand through his hair.

"Ron, Harry doesn't hate you. Nobody hates you. He is not angry with you for leaving us in the forest, I swear. He just doesn't know what he can tell you that won't make you angry with him again. He doesn't want to lose you again," Hermione explained soothingly. Ron closed his eyes violently, as if the fact that he was feeling his eyes burn and his throat constrict made him angrier. He was a man, damn it. Hermione motioned to get up, but then thought better about it and re-took her place.

"Yes, and now he trusts Malfoy the best―"

"Ron," Hermione sternly interrupted, finally getting up and pulling Ron against her in a fierce embrace. "We all love you; your family, Harry and I. I promise you that." Ron returned the embrace and buried his head in Hermione's shoulder, trusting his girlfriend to give him support. Harry found himself getting jealous of them, because they could freely display their affection for each other. Harry wanted that very much.

"Nobody cares," came the muffled reply. Then, Ron's anger returned and he pushed Hermione away – gently, Harry noticed – and then he started pacing again, cracking his knuckles angrily. "After he disappeared, the only thing everyone could think about was 'where is Harry?' and 'is he okay?' Well, George and I were also there and we were suffering, too. Harry chose to leave and you lot left us!"

"R-Ron," the brunette sobbed sadly, but her boyfriend didn't hear her. Hermione started to cry softly, sad beyond words at Ron's grief.

"I'm so _fucking_ tired! _I_ lost _my_ brother, _my_ mother is crazy and Harry is all _you_ care about!" he shouted pointing an accusing finger at Hermione, not caring about the tears that were gathering in his eyes. "I don't even have my best friend to talk to, because the only thing he cares about these days is Draco _sodding_ Malfoy!" Harry gasped at the accusation.

"Ron." Both Ron and Hermione went still and silent at the sound of Harry's voice. Ron turned his back on Harry and cleaned his tears hurriedly, while Hermione looked at Harry pleadingly, prompting him to make everything alright again.

"Harry, mate, I―"

"I heard enough," Harry interrupted; his voice tight with sadness and guilt. Ron tensed, apparently thinking that Harry was about to shout at him or hex him; Harry swallowed thickly and spoke in a much softer tone, "Come on, Ron, you don't really believe those things you said, do you?"

"I don't want you to think I'm mad at you, mate―" the red-headed started and the fear of losing his friend was clear in his voice. Ron had lost a brother and it was a brother too much; he didn't want to lose someone else close to him.

Harry interrupted him.

"Of course you are!" he exclaimed. "You're angry because I left you when you needed me. I'm sorry, I told you that already. I thought Hermione would be enough for you, but I kind of forgot that she is more than a friend now and things are different." Ron slumped against the desk, supported by his arms only, and said nothing. Harry continued, "It's just – you know, I'm not your family. I can't be there in your house and pretend than none of it was my fault," Harry explained quietly; he moved forward into the room and stood right behind Ron. He put a hand on the other's shoulder. "Malfoy could never replace you, you know?" Ron didn't look back, but he placed his hand on top of Harry's.

"Yeah, I know," he said, after a moment. "It's just that sometimes everything gets too much and," he shrugged, "you know." Harry did know; he understood very well what it was like to feel like you were left behind by all of the people you loved. "I was jealous of whoever had your attention," Ron admitted, embarrassed. "I really think of you as a brother and I am thankful with you helping mum and everything. I think that sometimes we should do something for you, too, and that you could get tired of us; of giving."

"I think I am still a bit awkward with this whole 'having-a-family' thing, yeah?" Harry replied, soothingly. "But, hey, I'm guessing brothers argue a lot, right?" Ron snorted, finally turning around to face Harry.

"That's an understatement," he retorted. They smiled tentatively at each other. Ron groaned and closed his eyes at something that he just realised. "I can't believe I was jealous of Malfoy."

"I kind of agree with that," Harry teased. Ron gave him a half-smile, but it was transitory and he looked at Harry hesitantly.

"Come on, spill it," the raven prompted. Ron looked straight into Harry's eyes and said somewhat apologetically.

"You know I get jealous a lot," Ron reminded him.

Harry burst out laughing and pulled Ron into a hug. After a moment of tenseness, Ron returned it; Hermione's put their arms around them both. Harry felt warm and happy and thought that – considering his life story – he was actually pretty lucky. It took him a moment to realise that he was getting more affectionate with his friends and the thought didn't bother him one bit. It meant he was willing trust his heart and soul with the people he cared about, not just his life.

After all, if one trusted one's feelings and deepest spirit, one may get hurt beyond repair, but dying . . . death was just a ritual of passage.

"You and Malfoy have more in common than you realise," Harry said, breaking the embrace. Just like that, everything was alright again. "And don't feel like you can't talk to me about anything, okay?" he reminded his friends, as he held his closed fist out to Ron.

"Okay, mate," Ron replied and bumped their closed fists together. Hermione, who had her sobs controlled by now, smiled brightly at them both and then nodded at Harry in reply. She conjured a tissue and cleaned her tears and nose; she managed to muster a glare.

"You guys are going to be death of me," the girl said, her voice hoarse from crying.

"Considering how many times we fight, I have no doubt," Ron replied, kissing her cheek and encircling her shoulders with one arm. Harry grinned and held out his arm, which she took.

"Cheers to that," he said and they walked out of the classroom together – having to move sideways to pass through the door, which made Hermione giggle helplessly – and headed towards the Gryffindor Tower.


	11. At The Astronomy Tower

**I apologise for the long wait. Everything else just got in the way. Let's hope this makes up for the delay.**

* * *

**PART II**

**At the Astronomy Tower**

By Dani-ko

Beta'd by MrsHellman

* * *

On the first day of school, Harry woke up as usual with Ron's shrieking alarm clock shouting invectives at them.

Just as always, Harry ignored it in favour of ten more minutes in bed. It had been one of the things he had liked better about Hogwarts as a first-year: the possibility of sleeping until later if he chose to do so – something he had never been able to do with the Dursleys. Regardless to say, he ended up having to shower and dress in a hurry and he even had to brush his teeth while setting his books for the day – he was sure he left some toothpaste stains on his shoulder bag.

Thankfully, his lack of organisation went by unnoticed since every one of his dorm-mates, except maybe Neville, had to deal with the same issues. Ron almost left the room without his shoes on.

As it was their routine, Hermione was sitting on their usual seats in the Common Room, with a book on her lap, reviewing some concept or other for the upcoming subject. Once they got to her side, and bid her 'good morning', she closed it with a loud thud and, giving them a reproachable glare, headed to the portrait hole.

Together they took the path to the Great Hall. That was precisely when Harry's brain got off auto-pilot and he started to think why that day felt so familiar and at the same time so odd. Well, the familiarity was obviously granted by the typical ritual they did every morning while at school – Harry and Ron getting late and Hermione huffing in annoyance for it – and the oddness was clearly granted by last night's events.

When he thought about it a second time, he realised it had been surreal.

Well, Ron and Hermione were behaving like they usually did after a fight; the girl was watching them both like they were going to explode at any second and Ron had just drawn back and was behaving very cautiously around the other two – experience told Harry that by the end of the day the awkward mood would already be long gone. So, the problem was not the fight, but the whole situation with Draco Malfoy.

You see, Harry was not the 'fight for a big cause' kind of fellow – which was a weird thing to say considering that he actually saved the world – but he had fought Voldemort because it was what it would take to protect the people he cared for. He never quite grasped the concept of having many lives on his shoulders – of course, when he did grasp it, he had already packed his things and hid himself in Hogsmeade, but that was not the point. The point was that Harry had done something very weird last night in standing up for the Slytherins like that . . . and all just because of Draco―

That was when he remembered his and Draco's little conversation outside the Great Hall.

Harry cringed and blushed at the mere memory. Last night, he had had the distinct feeling that Draco was going to kiss him on the lips and the thought hadn't bothered him as he expected it to – which was probably a good sign if Draco were to do that again. He frowned. He was pretty sure that one wasn't supposed to forget one's almost-kiss like Harry had just done. It was just that the whole moment looked like something taken off a dream; Harry's brain had stopped working and he had just done what his body told him to do – which was to just get closer.

Once they reached the massive doors of the Great Hall, Harry mildly wondered if Draco was already having breakfast. He brushed the thought aside – not wanting to give the impression of exaggerated longing – and let Ron hold the door for him and Hermione. When he entered the Great Hall, silence settled. Harry sighed, but since he was used to this kind of display, he just ignore his schoolmates and headed towards the Gryffindor table.

They were all looking at him as if he was about to explode. Hermione – as was her habit – glared around until they turned their gazes away. Then, she turned to Ginny.

"What is this about?" The red-headed girl shrugged and handed her the _Daily Prophet_. Harry watched, while putting some food on his plate. Hermione's eyes roamed over the page quickly, occasionally rolling her eyes in exasperation. He sighed.

"Do I care?" he asked, reluctantly.

"No, I don't think you do," Hermione replied, matter-of-factly, "But since ignorance is never the answer, you may want to take a look at this." She turned the paper towards Harry and Ron, and the latter groaned. The main page was occupied by a photo of the three of them plus Draco walking into the Hogwarts' Express and, although the photo was not suggestive in any way, someone thought appropriate to amplify Draco's hand on Harry's back. Regardless to say, the article was one big pile of speculation, but accurate enough to make people wonder.

"Bullocks," he heard Ron swear as he scanned through the article. Harry shrugged in resignation and returned to his breakfast. Usually, the _Daily Prophet_'s leering articles would have upset him, but he couldn't bring himself to it as the article was about him and _Draco_, and not somebody else.

Harry let his gaze wander towards the Slytherin table and noticed that the blonde, Nott and Zabini were absent. He decide to ignore the heavy feeling that was settling over his chest, in favour of listening to Hermione and Ron argue about how they should avoid to give anyone more reasons to breech into Harry's life. Which of course, knowing Hermione, it would lead exactly to―

"Harry, about last night," she began. Harry felt a bittersweet satisfaction over how well he knew his friends. He turned to face her, questioningly. She cleared her throat and proceeded. "Yeah, so, don't you think you overreacted a little?" Harry's face hardened.

"No, I don't," Harry stated firmly.

"I have to agree with Harry on this one, Mione―" Ron began to say, and then he shoved porridge into his mouth. Hermione made a disgusted noise.

"As usual," she muttered, dryly. Ron gave her a look, but ignored her comment otherwise.

"As I was saying, these people were acting stupid."

"They are children, Ron," Hermione retorted exasperatedly.

"Some of them are – what? A year younger than us? Maybe two―"

"I meant mentally―"

In that moment of their bickering, Harry shut them off because the blond that now occupied his thoughts had just entered the Hall, looking positively dashing as always, if not a bit ill-humoured, as he strode through the Hall towards his table, glaring icily at anyone who dared to cross his way. Harry felt an urge to smile dottily at Draco's predictability – at least in the mornings. Draco looked his way and their eyes met; the blond's frown relaxed and, as he waved, he spared Harry a flippant smile. This time, Harry did smile dottily―

"Why did you take so long to get back to the dorm yesterday, anyway?" Ron asked, frowning. Apparently, Harry's smile had rung some bells in his brain. Of course, that didn't help the raven-haired teen, who stammered and blushed brightly. Hermione cleared her throat to hide her amusement – quite useless, if you ask Harry – and faced Harry expectantly.

"So?" she prompted. "Did you kiss him?"

"_Hermione_!" both Harry and Ron exclaimed. She laughed.

"What are you laughing about, Granger?" drawled someone behind the two Gryffindor boys. Both of them sat up straight as if they had been caught doing naughty things – of course that their level of involvement was _somewhat_ different.

Harry turned around in the bench to face Draco, who he knew was standing right behind him. The blond was nipping on a toast with honey, already looking perfectly groomed; he had his bag thrown over his other shoulder, balancing his pose. He laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and his mouth twitched in the corners, as if he wanted to smile, but wouldn't; his gray eyes shone, though, and nobody could have missed that – if the fact that Seamus choked on his drink was of any indication.

"We are getting late, Potter," he said.

Harry nodded and, with a single swig, finished his pumpkin juice. He stood up and fetched his shoulder bag. Ron and Hermione stood up, too, and the girl walked around the table until she stood next to them. They met Theo and Blaise near the entrance and they headed to the Dungeons – as they had done every first Monday of school in the last seven years – except that this year, they did it together.

~*~

"Harry Potter!" Said teen groaned, knowing that voice very well and, unfortunately, the owner of it too. Horace Slughorn seemed to be even larger after the last three months of self-indulgence. "How wonderful to see you well." Harry tried to smile, but he feared it had come out as a grimace. Slughorn turned his gaze towards the blonde. "Mr. Malfoy, why don't you go sit down?"

"I'm waiting for Harry, professor," Draco replied, coolly. Slughorn gave him a calculating look, and then smiled condescendingly. "I'm afraid Mr. Potter doesn't want your company, my boy." Harry saw Draco's jaw tighten and thought it was for the best if they stopped right there.

"Just go sit, Malfoy," Harry sighed, waving with his hands, as if shooing him away. Draco's head snapped at him and Harry flinched at the look of betrayal in the gray eyes. Draco didn't say anything else, and chose to sit in the back of the room – the Gryffindor row. At least that was a good sign. It all happened very fast and when Harry returned his attention towards the teacher, the man didn't appear to have found anything out of the ordinary.

"I can imagine that fans are popping out of everywhere, right, Mr. Potter?" Harry smiled fleetingly and, nodding to Slughorn, he headed towards Draco's table.

"Can I sit here, Draco?" The blond nodded jerkily. Harry took his place, occasionally gazing nervously at Draco. Finally, the tension became unbearable. "Are you angry with me because I didn't tell him we're friends?" he asked quietly. Draco sighed and answered grudgingly.

"I hate that man," he asserted, taking out his tools violently. "Who does he think he is, judging me like that? I hate hypocritical, condescending idiots like Slughorn." Harry pressed his lips together, but that was just too much.

"Yes, fancy that," he replied, surly, "judging someone based on their background and birth, and act like one is better than everyone else." Hearing the inflexion in Harry's voice, Draco got the point; he was just as prejudiced as Slughorn. He had just been on the wrong side of the trifle. Harry felt satisfied when Draco had the grace of blushing, even if the blond just shrugged it off and looked straight into Harry's eyes.

"Well, I was wrong and so is he." Somehow, that sounded much more important than a simple admission of guilt. Suddenly, the mood became awkward and heavy with something akin to longing.

"At least you admit it," Harry replied, trying to lighten the mood. However, when Draco opened his mouth to give a witty retort, Slughorn interrupted hastily.

"Mr. Malfoy," he reprimanded, his voice echoing through the classroom. "Do stop annoying our Mr. Potter and focus on your own assignment." Draco tensed impossibly and narrowed his eyes at the teacher.

"He's more mine than yours, you poor excuse of a teacher," he gritted out so that only Harry would hear, but his hateful gaze was focused on Slughorn. Draco turned towards Harry. "He's the worst House Head Slytherin has ever seen." Harry refrained from pointing out that Malfoy had only met two House Heads and that he was partial in that choice. "He simply doesn't care. Severus had the first and second-years in bed by ten o'clock, the third, fourth and fifth-years by eleven and only the rest was allowed to go to bed at their own discretion. Every week, he expected daily reports from the Perfects on how the Slytherins classes were going. The man bloody knew everything!"

Harry had to say that that was odd. Neither of McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout seemed to have that much care with their students. Although, now that Harry thought about it, a bunch of children away from home must certainly need of someone to enforce discipline; some of students would probably do a lot better in classes that way. Then again, it came as no surprise that Slytherins did indeed take care of their own. As usual, Harry felt the rush of pride curse through him.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Harry said, knowing that Draco dislike for Slughorn went past the humiliation he thought he was enduring. Draco just shrugged.

"Let's just focus on our potions." His smirk turned mockingly evil at that. "I'm sure you need your full brain capacity not to explode the classroom." Harry narrowed his eyes, but refused to spoil Draco's lightness of mood and didn't answer.

~*~

Draco, being one to bear a grudge, of course, spent the morning complaining about Slughorn – and thus about the rest of the teachers and the school itself – to Harry, Theo and Blaise, and quite possibly to Hermione, since the girl returned from their Arithmancy class looking terribly annoyed and shooting glares at anyone who dared to complain about anything – _'Oh, deal with it, Ron! I'm not your mother.' _

Not that Hermione would tell Harry, but Draco didn't just wish for attention from anyone, but for Harry's attention in particular – _'Unbelievable! That wale thinks he can just talk me down to Potter like I don't have any claim on him. Ah! We're friends!'_

After lunch, Harry had a free period, and he and Hermione had gone to the Room of Requirement to work on Lucius' Spell. The brunette made Harry test a number of spells, most of which were useless, but in the end they had a very tangible idea on how to break the different components of the curse that afflicted Lucius.

It was a good thing, because if they could cure each component of the spell, they would be able to come up with the final incantation. Unfortunately, Harry was of no help regarding the translation, which left the majority of the work for Hermione. And, of course, they still had the issue of how the spell was feeding its power and if there was any hidden symptom they were unaware of, but Hermione was optimistic.

They decided to ask Narcissa for Lucius' medical records and discuss them with Madam Pomfrey – which implied they had to involve Draco in the matter. The blond took everything in a stride and even offered to help with the translations, but Hermione refused, claiming that he was too emotionally involved. Draco seemed to understand that. Too well, actually – this made Harry frown and Hermione shoot Draco a sympathetic glance. Harry would ask her about it later.

Then, Hermione and Draco left for Ancient Runes and Harry went to the Common Room to find Ron sulking in front of the fireplace, grumbling something about being 'left out again'. It took a bit of manipulative coaxing, but Harry managed to convince the redhead to help him with the Quidditch Team selection the following day. They left the warning in the Common Room's board and went to Defence against the Dark Arts.

Harry sat next to Draco once again, much to the amusement and concern of Lupin. Harry had no doubt he was going to get 'The Talk' soon enough.

~*~

That night, Harry laid alone in the dark for a long time, unable to sleep and feeling a sorrow that was not his own. Deep down, Harry knew whom it belonged to; nonetheless, he chose not to dwell on how he could have obtained such knowledge and, instead, he fooled himself into believing that the weight of being at Hogwarts had finally settled on him – which was not entirely untrue either. Still, today had been a magnificent trial against old prejudices and grudges.

Harry would have been happy to say that they had been victorious in the end, but there were some old actions that could not be atoned by simply making friends and ending old feuds. That was especially true for Draco.

At last, Harry made his decision. He got up and, soon enough – without waking his dorm-mates – exited the Gryffindor Tower, dressed in a warm jumper on top of his pyjamas and wearing his Invisibility Cloak. He found no obstacles on his way; it was as if Hogwarts was indulging him. It was a silly notion, but so fit of Dumbledore's folly that Harry couldn't help but to think that perhaps it was true. His feet took him to the top of the Astronomy Tower, startling Harry a bit with the oddness of the choice. That was, until he heard a poorly concealed sigh – or maybe it was a sob.

"I know you're there, Harry." That was when Harry noticed the hunch figure near the Observation Gallery. Draco was poorly dressed for the midnight cold, his hair shinning with the moonlight and floating with the breeze. Harry shrugged off his Cloak and settled it on the floor. He approached the blond and gently touched his back, only to gasp, startled.

"You're freezing!" he exclaimed, making a motion to strip his woollen jumper. Draco just shrugged, stopping him. Tonight, he embraced the cold; it made him pleasantly numb.

"I wasn't intending on staying long," he explained, indifferently. Harry stopped, torn between defying Draco and understanding his feelings. In the end, he settled for watching the blond, as he turned away and looked into the distance.

"How long have you been here?" Harry asked, cautiously. Draco shrugged again. Unable to help himself and bracing himself for rejection, Harry gingerly approached Draco and curled his arms around the blond's waist, resting his cheek against the back of the teen's shoulder. He too gazed into the canopy of the Forbidden Forest, wondering what was haunting Draco.

"I haven't been up here since the Dumbledore's death," the blond said after a while. To Harry, it sounded like the beginning of a confession. Draco wouldn't cry, he was too prideful for that; unlike Harry, who had become a little unstable with all the responsibilities laid upon him, Draco had been taught to shoulder his burdens and not complain. Complaining would mean weakness. While Harry didn't trust on principle, the other male just wouldn't allow himself such weakness. Unconsciously, Harry tightened his arms around the taller teen.

"Me neither," was all he could muster. Draco leaned back, but tensed right away, as if he was berating himself for leaning into the comfort. Harry could hardly lecture him since he dealt with things by himself, as well . . . or would have, before Draco came along, wasn't that right? Draco swallowed and cleared his throat.

"At first, I refused, you know?" Draco began quietly, as if Voldemort could still hear him. Harry said nothing, but curled his hand on top of Draco's, where it rested on the stony balustrade. "Well, one couldn't outright refuse the Dark Lord, but I didn't want to do it and he could tell." Draco paused. "During the Christmas holidays, I came home to find mother and father tied up in the ballroom. The others were – h-hurting them." Harry could imagine the scene. He had watched Voldemort torture the Muggle Studies teacher in that room, after all.

Not knowing what to say he looked at the blonde, and said the only thing that came to mind; "I'm sorry." He'd forced himself to say so, not knowing if Draco would appreciate the interruption. The blond just proceeded.

"I felt so powerless." Draco's soft voice sounded absent and Harry knew he was reliving the whole ordeal. "They were using the Cruciatus," Draco said and paused tightly. "They could have done _anything_ that nobody would have stopped them―" By the inflexion of his voice, and based on some of his nightly visions, Harry could understand the fear and vulnerability the three Malfoys must have felt at the moment. Nothing would have stopped the Death Eaters from sexually assaulting their hosts; they had probably even hinted at it. "And Bellatrix was having such a blast." Draco wouldn't – _couldn't_ – call that diabolic woman his aunt ever again.

"I don't know how to make it better, Draco," Harry whispered regretfully. Draco sighed and turned around in Harry's arms until his back rested against the parapet of the Gallery and he pulled Harry more securely against him, curling his long arms around the other teen's shoulders. He was still freezing, but it wasn't numbing anymore, and Harry fit _so_ nicely against him.

"Only you would want to," Draco replied, dryly. "And Dumbledore, of course. Trusting fools." Harry didn't take offense, since Draco's bitter tone showed him who was really being insulted here; none other than Draco himself. "I deserved everything that happened to me. Mother and Father, too. We're far from innocent, Harry, but this new side of us you're seeing is meant only for you. We're only nice when it suits us. Sooner or later, I'm afraid you'll learn that." Harry's gaze hardened into steel.

"What do you mean?" he gritted out. Draco winced at Harry's tone, but tried to hide it.

"I can't tell you to which extent I want you because you're powerful," the blond explained, looking away. Draco truly meant it; as Slytherins, everything could be use as unfair advantage and Draco didn't want Harry to be taken advantage of, not even by himself. "Mother can be using you to cure Father. I wouldn't put it past her. I love her, but I also know who she is. All of us are far too ambitious, too cold-hearted, too arrogant and too prejudiced. Our poor choices are the proof of that and you are a fool if you think you can change us. We got what we deserved, except that maybe we should all be locked up in Azkaban."

At first, Harry said nothing, but as he searched Draco's eyes for the truth, he found it. And what to say then? Harry had know all of that when he started to get closer to Draco, and yet he managed to do it . . . now that he thought about it, that did feel a bit strange. To let go of his anger, hatred, sorrow and mistrust that fast was a bit weird for him, but maybe – he thought with a hopeful lurch of happiness – they were meant for each other and that's why things had gone so easily. Harry didn't believe in soul mates – or at least in that romantic concept that twin souls crossed the universe together – but maybe Draco could be the one for him. How wonderful would that be?

"That hardly makes you evil," Harry retorted, looking straight into Draco's eyes. "Even if you were selfish, cold-hearted, arrogant and prejudiced – which you are _not_, at least not much anymore – it wouldn't make you the next Dark Lord. You have an opportunity to make it right. Don't waste it by feeling sorry for yourself." Draco bristled at what he called Harry's condescending tone.

"I'm still Marked," he replied viciously, although neither teen broke the embrace. "I wanted to be."

"Yes, you wanted to mean something," Harry said gently. "The path you chose was the wrong one, though."

"And, because of that, I will spend the rest of my life making up for it." Both teen's minds drifted towards Professor Snape. Draco bitterly thought that he should have listened to the man and at the same time his heart broke for the trying life Snape had. He had cared for the man and such bravery should have been better rewarded . . . in a way, perhaps it had. Snape would have wanted peace at last. "I don't want to end up that way. Hated forever." Harry didn't need clarification.

"I won't let it happen," he snapped. "Once was enough." Harry's passionate promise made Draco feel better at once. It may not be enough to absolve him from his sins, but the thought that someone as _good_ as Harry believed in him gave him the confidence boost he needed.

Cradling the back of Harry's skull, Draco pulled the other's head to lean against his shoulder. Harry was just perfect to fit against him, like puzzle pieces. Harry snuggled closer, like they had done several times before, and, as Harry's scent filled his nostrils, Draco was transported to the previous day, when he had kissed Harry's forehead to prevent himself from kissing another, much more appealing, part of Harry's face. He ran his hands over Harry's back, in a slow caress, taking comfort from it as he did from nothing else.

"Do you want to go back?" Harry asked lifting his hand from Draco's shoulder, just as Draco shivered. It wasn't from the cold breeze, though, but Draco didn't say that aloud.

"Not yet." Harry nodded in recognition, but with a flick of his wand conjured three thick blankets and a cushion, which he enlarged to hold both of them. Harry fixed their makeshift cot quickly and they lay side by side on the floor of the Astronomy Tower, under the stars, just like they did in the Malfoy Manor. Draco laid his head on the other's shoulder an curled his body around Harry's, listening to the known heartbeat and letting the rise and fall of Harry's breathing lull him into relaxation.

"Okay?" Harry asked when he was sure they were both cocooned inside the blankets. Draco just nodded.

"I regret so many things, Harry," Draco said breathlessly. "But what I regret the most still is that I made Severus kill for me. As if he hadn't had enough to worry about." Well, Harry agreed, so he couldn't very well lie and tell Draco that it wasn't true.

"Yeah," he breathed, at last. "I think we should let all that behind us. I think neither you nor me had much choice on what happened."

They fell into silence once again, but it wasn't awkward. They were just allowing themselves to remember last year's trials; then, afterwards, maybe they could be free from it. They didn't believe it, but there was nothing wrong with hoping to start over. Before either of them knew it, they were both fast asleep.

~*~

Hours later, the sunlight hit Harry straight in the face, making the teen shy away and bury his nose deeper into the covers.

The warmth brought by the sun was making him uncomfortable; let's not mention the blond draped over his body. Begrudgingly, Harry opened his eyes to make himself comfortable again, when he realised they were still in the Astronomy Tower. Harry was very sure that it was a school day.

"Draco!" he called urgently, while casting a Time Charm to find out that they were already very late. Draco just mumbled something inaudibly and burrowed his face further in Harry's shoulder. "Malfoy!" The blond's head shot up in confusion and alarm, which morphed into a scowl once he saw that it was Harry. As usual, he looked terrible after waking up, yet so very cute.

"What, Potter?" he grouched, annoyingly.

"We're late for Transfiguration, you dolt!" Harry exclaimed, trying to break free from the tangle of blankets he found himself in. That seemed to wake Draco up, because he too shot up and started to push the blankets aside. They exited the Tower, only run back in when they notice several students moving about. The teens glanced at each other.

"What do we do now?" asked Draco, peeking over the doorway. Harry squared his shoulders and handed him the Invisibility Cloak.

"You use it to get to the Dungeons―"

"Are you stupid?" Draco drawled. "Exactly how do you expect to reach the Gryffindor Tower without getting caught by Filch? They you would have to tell them about me―"

"I wouldn't!" Harry protested as Draco just smirked.

"Exactly," he agreed. "Do you think I would accept that?" Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Well, then you think of something," he prompted and then, he glanced around nervously. "We're _so_ late."

"I know a few secret passages that will take me to the Slytherin dorm without getting caught―"

"You could shower and get dressed in the Gryffindor dorm," Harry suggested quickly and diffidently. "Everybody must be at the Great Hall still, so it's fine. We could summon my house-elf and have him bring you clothes." The most interesting blush made its way to Draco's cheeks and he looked straight at Harry.

"Are you inviting me to your room?" The leer was impossible to miss. The raven-haired teen blushed, too, but didn't back down, in a perfect example of Gryffindor courage.

"I guess I am." It was Harry said. The raven-haired teen Vanished the covers and cushion, and Draco draped the Cloak around their shoulders. They moved with difficulty, since Draco was very tall, but they reached the tower without any major problems.

Twenty minutes later, they were both showered and dressed in Hogwarts' school uniform, and Harry was dragging the blond out of the dormitory. They ran through the hallways and all but jumped the staircases, until they reached the first floor. They stopped just outside the classroom, where Tonks' voice could be heard through the door. Harry caught his breath―

"Potter, stop!"

―and knocked on the door. Harry looked over his shoulder at Draco, silently enquiring a 'what's your problem?' They were already thirty minutes late and Harry had no intention of delaying his entrance even more. Draco narrowed his eyes and hissed, "We should have arranged a story to explain our lateness, damn it!" Harry just shrugged him off and opened the door. Side by side – and avoiding their friends' faces, as if dreading what they would find – they entered the room.

"Good morning," Tonks greeted cheerfully. "Harry, Mr. Malfoy, could you please explain why are you two so late?" It was with bittersweet satisfaction that Draco saw Harry blink stupidly, unsure about what to say. Rolling his eyes, Draco faced the teacher.

"We apologise for our lateness, professor," he said, coolly. It seemed to shake Harry out of his embarrassment.

"Yes, we weren't in our dorms―"

"Harry," Draco gritted out, not liking the sound of that excuse. As if to prove him right, Harry continued.

"―we visited the Astronomy Tower last night and kind of fell asleep." Sympathy glinted in Tonks' eyes and she nodded in recognition. Draco absolutely loathed that look in people's faces, but he couldn't very well complain about it, so he clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders. The whole class was drinking every word that was being said. The Gryffindors were shocked beyond hope, the Slytherins were looking for advantage.

"I understand," Tonks said at last. "That will still be five points from Gryffindor and Slytherin respectively for lateness . . . now, if you please." She gestured to the desk immediately in front of hers; the desk nobody wanted. Without a choice, both teens took their places and soon the students' attention was once again focused on their teacher.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Draco's lips quirk upwards and his eyebrow was fidgeting; he was containing his laughter. The blond saw Harry look at him and smirked, taking a parchment and a quill. He scribbled something and discreetly passed it onto the Gryffindor. It was all Harry could do not to laugh out loud at the note so typical of Draco.

_'Did you see the Weasel's face? Priceless. It made my day. Just wait until the rumour reaches the rest of the school and then I'll be famous for shagging the Golden Boy. Do you reckon you could write me a recommendation letter?'_


End file.
